(3) Salty Breezes
by MacGuffin65
Summary: The Connor Team is on a trip around the world on the mega yacht "Rising Star" - a honeymoon for all the newlywed couples and their friends. So... it's just a vacation, right? Or is it? The Connor Team wouldn't be the Connor Team if new adventures weren't lurking for them in almost every port. Adventures that'll bring them many new friends - but also new enemies...
1. Puerto Vallarta

-0-

**SALTY BREEZES**

**A Fan Fiction, based on "Terminator – The Sarah Connor Chronicles"**

**by**

**MacGuffin65**

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**The Connor Team is on a trip around the world on the mega yacht "Rising Star" - a honeymoon for all the newlywed couples and their friends. So... it's just a vacation, right? Or is it? The Connor Team wouldn't be the Connor Team if new adventures weren't lurking for them in almost every port. Adventures that'll bring them many new friends - but also new enemies...**

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**-0-**

**FOREWORD**

**_(Please Read This If You Don't Wanna Be Completely Confused!)_**

**_So, here is my third story.  
_**

**_I had planned this as a kind of intermezzo between the "big" stories, with an emphasis on describing a carefree trip far away from the troubles of home, learning about the world they saved and which they're now protecting. But, as things are, the story quickly developed a life of its own and keeps getting bigger, more dramatic and more action oriented than I'd intended. What can I do? I just get so many ideas when I write :-)  
_**

**_The plot revolves around the world trip with Isaak Sirko's yacht "Rising Star", which was mentioned at the end of my second story "Dawn of a New Era". Strictly speaking, the plot is still within the framework of "Dawn of a new Era". As my readers know, I skipped about half a year in the epilogue. This story tells what happened during the half year. _**

**_So, this has become more than just the bonus story I originally had in mind. Instead, it has now become my fully-fledged third story. There is an overall plot arc that already paves the way for the fourth story, but the individual chapters will also have self-contained plots._**

**_And of course there will be lots and lots of references to the previous two stories! So..._**

**_BEFORE YOU START READING, I'D LIKE TO STRESS ONCE AGAIN THAT THIS IS MY THIRD STORY. IF YOU START READING IT WITHOUT HAVING READ MY OTHER TWO STORIES BEFORE, YOU ARE MISSING 1,250,000 WORDS - WHICH MEANS THAT THIS STORY WILL MAKE ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE TO YOU WHATSOEVER._**

**_Those who have read my two previous stories, however, will know that I've created a whole new TSCC universe that's completely different from the established franchise, with the same players as in the Sarah Connor Chronicles, but with heavy character developments and lots of new, additional characters. _**

**_This time, the story is not classified as M, but as T. I decided to leave away the lemons in this one for a reason: Lemons tend to get repetitive quite quickly and it doesn't really bring the story forward (sorry for those who counted on them). There will be love scenes, of course, only not as often and not as explicit as before - this will mainly be a plot-driven story. Also, maybe more people will find their way into my TSCC universe now, since M-rated stories are filtered out by default in the search function._**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own "Terminator – The Sarah Connor Chronicles", I'm just borrowing the characters for my story.**

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**_CHAPTER 1: "PUERTO VALLARTA"_**

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**Saturday, November 22nd, 2008 – 01:03 a.m.**

**_Day 2 at sea_**

_It's been six days… almost a week. _

_A week since Charley and I got married. A week since I became Mrs. Sarah Dixon. A week since a new phase in my life has begun, hopefully a better phase than the last sixteen years – which were twenty-four years for everyone who didn't do the time jump from 1999 to 2007 and… never mind, that's not important anymore. So many things aren't important anymore._

_In fact, it almost seems that life is beginning to get a little boring for me now. So, Charley suggested that I start writing a diary to keep myself occupied with something until I found some hobbies and pastimes. Well, where should I start?_

_We won!_

_We beat Skynet and its goons, we actually prevented Judgement Day!_

_We received confirmation for that from the future and know that from now on, we are at the beginning of a 324-year time loop, the end of which is predetermined and from the course of which we cannot deviate. I don't know what the next three hundred and twenty-four years will bring for me personally – and I don't really wanna know, to be honest - but I know that I won't die of cancer and I know that there won't be the end of the world. And knowing that is... extremely relaxing. I can feel how the tension that dominated almost all of my adult life, is slowly falling off of me. _

_I have to admit it puts me into a slightly melancholic mood. Will I be able to let go? Will I be able to give my life a new meaning, to start all over again with a new beginning? Or will I fall into a deep hole, now that my work is done, now that John has grown up and begun to lead his own life? On the surface, everything seems perfect now. But as it is, with every big change comes big uncertainty about what will happen next._

_Charley and I bought a house in Montecito. A huge property that used to belong to a married couple of Grays. Fanatics who nearly brought the terror of another artificial intelligence on us that wanted to rule the world through the cult it had created. But we could prevent that as well, with the help of all our newly acquired friends and allies. _

_For we are no longer alone. We are a big family now._

_Montecito is sixty miles away from Cliffside House in Malibu, more than ninety miles from John's loft in L.A. Charley and I will be alone there - most of the time, that is. Well, we'll live together with a Triple-Eight that will protect us and... no, that doesn't feel right anymore. Porter is more than a protector, he's a friend. A friend who will not only be our bodyguard, but also help us to keep the huge property in good shape. He had sacrificed his original biological shell for us and looks different now, but he's still the same person. Unlike Cam, Alison, Emily, Catherine, Zoe and Norberto, he's still far away from really being alive. But he's loyal to us and extremely devoted. And as Alistair assured me, it's only a matter of time until be develops his own consciousness - now that his chip is set to read/write._

_This is the first night of our extended family honeymoon. We're cruising south on the Pacific Ocean on Isaac's huge yacht, the "Rising Star"… and it seems like with the growing distance from home, also comes a certain distance to my old life. Sarah Connor the fighter, the rebel, the protector of her son… no more. John is now better protected than I could have ever hoped for and I can think about myself for a change. If only Kyle would be here to see this… he'd be so proud of his son._

_The "Rising Star" is a technical marvel. It feels like being in the best five-star hotel in the world. The food is fantastic, and the crew reads every wish from our eyes. The ship is huge, 141 meters long, our suites are about sixty square meters in size. There is a strong separation between the passenger space and the crew space, almost like on a cruise ship, so we're among ourselves almost all of the time. My favorite spot on the ship has to be the lounge on the top floor – or Deck 1, as the crew calls it. I'm not very familiar with nautical terms yet. It's a single, large observation room, with panoramic windows all around, where you have a wonderful, unobstructed 360-degree view on the surrounding ocean – or landscape when you're in a harbor._

_Underneath it, on Deck 2, are the bridge as well as the dining room and the big main lounge, practically a central living room for all passengers. Decks 3 and 4 contain our guest suites, where deck 3 is still one of the superstructures, while deck 4 is the first deck inside the hull. The galley is also on Deck 4 as well as a cinema for twenty people. Catherine and Isaak, Derek and Jesse, and Savannah and Allie are on deck 3, the rest of us have their suites on deck 4. It should be mentioned that Savannah and Allie will probably hardly spend any time in their own suite, but rather with John and his three cyborg wives. Unfortunately, their suite is right next to ours, and the inner walls of the ship aren't very well soundproofed._

_Deck 5 contains the crew quarters, storage rooms, a laundry, various workshops, the engine room and many other technical facilities. The "Rising Star" also has a tender with space for thirty people. It's firmly anchored in a kind of garage, so that you can get in and out without fear of the swell. When the ship is in port or has stopped, the garage can be opened and flooded, and the tender can be easily moved in and out. However, there's also a docking platform at the stern of the ship where supply boats can moor._

_Everyone is happy and content. This extended honeymoon is really going to be a journey around the world in peace and tranquility. Finally, there are no more problems, no more lurking enemies, no more time travelers who confront us with new challenges, no more annoyances and discords, no more_

"**YOU DID WHAT!?"**

Sarah flinched and left an ugly trace of ink on the paper as her fountain pen slipped. That had been Savannah's voice.

**"How could I have guessed that on a free trip around the world on a luxury yacht, your biggest concern is getting laid enough?"**

That was Alison's voice, not as loud but still penetrating. She sounded equally upset. So much for peace and tranquility. Why, oh, why did they have to choose the suite next to them? Wasn't it enough that John and the girls were often so loud during the night?

"**I HATE YOU, ALISON!"**

Again, Savannah's voice, accompanied by other voices that weren't quite so loud but also sounded agitated. Sarah put down the pen, closed the diary and stood up to check on what the shouting was all about. She walked out of the bedroom door while Charley turned around in his bed, murmuring something incomprehensible. He slept the sleep of the just... after all, it was way past midnight.

"**THAT'S IT! I'M MOVING OUT OF HERE!"**

The moment Sarah had opened the door to the corridor, an infuriated Savannah rushed past her towards the stairs to the upper deck at the bow. She almost got run over by the redhead.

"**WELL DONE, JOHN… WELL DONE!"**

That was Allie's voice. She stood together with John, Alison, Cameron and Emily in the entrance to their suite.

"Listen, Allie…" John tried to appease, "we thought it would be better for all of us if…"

"**YOU JUST DECIDED THAT OVER OUR HEADS!"** Allie snapped, apparently very angry as well.

"What's going on here?" Sarah asked.

Everyone turned towards her and seemed to notice her for the first time.

"Mom!" John said in surprise and prepared for an explanation, but then hesitated as he looked at his mother. "What... what happened to your... chest?"

"Mom wanted to get her breasts enlarged," Alison quickly explained, "I did it after dinner, she wanted to show it to Charley first and then to everyone else in the morning… I figured a nice D-cup like mine would…"

"I repeat," Sarah said unfazed, "what's the shouting all about in the middle of the night? What's going on here?"

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE, YOU ASK?" Allie exclaimed loudly and took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, then pointed at Alison. "SHE has manipulated the whole crew into ignoring us!"

"Yeah, so?" Sarah asked. "That was the only solution, otherwise we would have been forced to wear clothes while we're at sea. Nobody wants that."

"You don't understand!" Allie exclaimed, "She not only manipulated them into ignoring our nudity, Alison also made sure that none of them… NONE. OF. THEM… will ever be interested in Savannah and me. And she acted on John's instigation!"

"Maybe I have phrased it wrongly," John said carefully. "I just didn't want you to interfere with their operations. They need to do their jobs without getting distracted by a boat full of naked people. Plus, we all knew that you and Savannah would try to seduce members of the crew, now that Marcus isn't with us on this journey."

"And we were right about that," Cameron explained. "On the very first night, they went straight to the captain and the first officer, trying to impress them with their, well… exposed libido."

"They got kicked off the bridge," Emily added.

"Maybe… maybe Alison was a bit… overzealous with it," John said carefully, receiving an angry look from his wife for that.

"Just great, John!" Allie stated fatalistically, "Now we're not going to have sex with a man for almost half a year! And you knew that we need it, despite the antidote! You knew that!"

"Well, strictly speaking, you can get off at the ports and find somebody for as long as we're moored there," Emily suggested.

Allie gasped from indignation.

"What!? We're no sluts! We don't just sleep with anybody! We could have built a real relationship with members of the crew during the six months! It would have been in mutual agreement and to mutual advantage. Most of them are singles because they practically live aboard! Isaak would certainly not have had anything against it. But now you have ruined everything!"

"But you still have Savannah and she has you, and you've brought your vibrators and…" Alison began but then stopped talking as she saw that John was vigorously shaking his head no.

But it was already too late.

"**I… I… I… AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!**" Allie shouted in frustration and ran away, in the opposite direction Savannah had run into, down the corridor towards the stairs that led to the aft deck.

"Well, that could have gone better…" John commented.

"They'll calm down again," Cameron said, "they can't remain pissed for six months."

"Then you don't know my daughter well."

Everyone turned their heads into the direction the voice had come from. But there was nobody there. Then suddenly a part of the wooden wall paneling began to flow down like in a painting by Dali, gathered on the floor and became shiny, liquid metal from which the body of Catherine Weaver finally formed, naked of course, as all of them. There was a strict dress code aboard the "Rising Star", which stated no clothes at all at any time while they were at sea.

"Sorry for that," she said, "I didn't want to play the fly on the wall, but I was passing by in the corridor and felt safer keeping out of the line of fire. Wow, Sarah, your… bust has improved a lot."

Another door in the corridor opened and Lauren peeked out of it. Then Sydney, Anne and Jody also entered the hallway, followed by their respective boyfriends.

"Are you having a party out here?" Lauren asked, "Morris and I… oh wow, Sarah, look at you!"

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes, yes… I have bigger breasts. I never liked my bust size and now that it's very likely I don't have to run and fight anymore, I've decided to indulge myself. Alison was kind enough to grant my wish."

"Now that it is safe to do so…" Alison added. "The nanobots are now being flushed out directly after they've done their job. No more delayed side-effects."

"You mean… down the toilet?" Jody asked.

"Yes…" Alison confirmed. "Together with your other bodily fluids."

"You also look younger again, Sarah," Sydney stated. "I'd say about Savannah's age."

"That's deceiving. It's because the nanobots have tightened my skin again."

"Wow… if it's safe now, I might as well get a second helping," Anne said, kneading her breasts, "what do you think, Danny? Double-D's?"

"I think you're already pretty enough with your C-cups," Danny pointed out quickly.

"He's right," Alison agreed, "This whole thing shouldn't turn into a contest for who's got the biggest tits."

"All right, what are we going to do about Savannah and Allie?" John asked to change the topic again.

"Maybe you should go after Allie," Sarah suggested. "Catherine can go after her daughter."

"But mom, I…"

"I know she probably doesn't want to see you right now, John, but you have to talk to her, calm her down. And then we'll come up with a solution that can satisfy both of them. Catherine is better suited to talk to Savannah while you should talk to Allie."

"Certainly wouldn't be great to travel with two grumpy, sexually frustrated women for six months," Sydney added.

**-0-**

Savannah stood at the railing at the bow and sobbed as the yacht cruised southward through the night. Suddenly, she noticed she wasn't alone anymore.

"Go away!"

"Why? So you can peacefully drown yourself in self-pity?"

"Sometimes your directness really pisses me off, mother."

"Maybe you can help me to improve then. Explain to me why exactly you are so upset right now."

"Isn't it obvious? They're making fun of Allie and me! They don't respect our needs."

"By making it impossible for you to seduce members of the crew?"

"Yes!"

"I spoke with Isaak before we left. He agreed to and even welcomed Alison's influence on the crew with her chemical messengers to the effect that there are no sex orgies on board. The crew is off limits for you and if you would have bothered to show up at the briefing, you would have known."

"We had to say goodbye to Marcus!"

"Nevertheless, it is unfair to blame Alison for what she did because what she did, was a decision made by all of us."

"Not _all_ of us…" Savannah replied, sounding a bit meekly now.

"Very well, not _all_ of us… but by the vast majority."

Savannah didn't reply to that anymore. She started rocking back and forth a little as she held her arms crossed and stared out at the ocean.

"I don't have too much experience with human emotions and feelings yet," Catherine continued, "not to mention the complicated rituals and interactions, the causes and effects, and the reactions to certain stimuli... but I don't think that the thing with the crew is the real reason why you and Allie are angry."

Again, no answer.

"Savannah, are you in love with John?"

She stopped rocking back and forth and looked at her mother.

"Is it that obvious?"

"For everyone who has eyes to see. Does John know?"

"Yes, of course."

"So… does he reject you? Doesn't he love you?"

Savannah scoffed, then shook her head and sighed.

"He loves me… only not the way I love him. He's been extremely fair to be honest. He's approached us as far as he could. We hug, we kiss, we sleep in the same bed… we even take showers together…"

"But…?"

"But… no sex. And no touching of his, uh... little John. That's the condition."

"I see."

"I wish we never would have told him…"

"Told him what?"

Savannah looked at her mother, thinking about whether to tell her or not. But Catherine was an android, a T-1001, and she wouldn't judge her for sure.

"In the future," she began, "there was a time, during our training, when mom… I mean Cameron, kinda alienated herself from us. She did it because she loved us… only at the time we didn't realize it. She wanted us to become the best human fighters anyone could imagine, good enough to win against a Terminator in close combat. And for that, Cameron turned into a relentless teacher… cold, hard, unyielding, unforgiving. She practically stopped being our mother. She left us alone with dad… I mean Future John, for almost half a year. She didn't want our family life to interfere with the training."

"I see. That must have been hard for you."

"Yes… and it was even harder for dad."

"So... were you able to comfort him?"

"Not at first…"

"Meaning…?"

"After some time… I don't remember how long it took… Allie and I got very close to dad… we, uh… became intimate."

"You slept with each other."

"Yes."

"Both of you?"

"Uh-huh… but only I got pregnant."

"What!?"

"Relax, the child was never born. I miscarried before anyone could have noticed. After the training was over, our family life normalized again, and over time everything went back to as it had been before. But our… affair has been a secret between Allie, me and dad ever since."

"But you told John about it... this John, I mean."

Savannah nodded.

"I see," Catherine remarked. "Yeah, I can apprehend that it shocked him."

"I think it's the main reason why he won't have sex with us. He is so fixated on not becoming like his future self that he dislikes almost everything Future John has done. And in his eyes, it was unforgivable that a stepfather had sex with his stepdaughters."

"The way you describe it, it sounds like he would actually _want_ to have sex with you, but refuses to allow himself, as a kind of... defiant reaction to Future John's breach of taboo."

Savannah nodded,.

"Uh-huh.. yeah… that's pretty much summing it up, I guess. Allie and I tried everything to seduce him, we even hooked up with Marcus to see if John would become jealous… but he didn't."

"Have you ever considered that he doesn't want sex with you because he isn't in love with you? Because he already has three women he loves and adores and who fulfill his every desire?"

"But he could… I mean… he's able to. Thanks to Alison's nanobots, he could easily satisfy ten women and… I mean, there's no reason he couldn't do it. He already has three wives, and Cam, Alison and Emily surely wouldn't have a problem if there were two more of them."

"You don't get my point, Savannah. What John grants you now… that you can stay in bed with him, that's the biggest concession he's willing to make. And you should appreciate that. He loves his three wives. He loves you, too, but in a different way. Has he ever indicated that he might be sexually interested in you?"

"No, but…"

"You and Allie will have to face the fact that John simply doesn't want to have sex with you because he doesn't desire you. He loves and desires Cameron, Alison and Emily. On first glance, they are three different women, yes. They look different, they sometimes behave different, thanks to different experiences. So why not more than only three?"

"Exactly! Why not more than just three?"

"But what you and Allie forget is that they have identical chips. They are three variations of the same woman: Cameron. And John loves Cameron above everything – in all her variations. I don't think that will ever change. Forty-three years weren't able to change Emily in a significant way. She's still Cameron inside, and Alison is still Cameron inside as well. In truth, John loves only one woman and will always do… only she happens to have three bodies."

Savannah didn't speak for a long moment, staring out at sea again.

"I've never seen it that way," she finally said. "Or at least I never allowed myself to see it that way."

"See what I mean? Now we're getting somewhere. This isn't about John's feelings, it's about _yours_. You only care about what _you_ want, not what John wants. You have to let go, Savannah, it's the only way."

"But why does he allow us to stay in bed with him, why does he... kiss us… and…"

"Because he loves you very much, of course, and doesn't want to disappoint or hurt you. John wants you both to be happy. But you will never be happy if you continue to be so close together. You have your own bedroom and bathroom at home. And you have your own suite on board here. Why don't you just use it and let John and his three wives have their privacy?"

"Because there would be no turning back after that. Once we're out, we can't get back in."

"And again, you're only thinking of yourself now, Savannah... John, Alison, Cameron and Emily are married. Not before the law, I admit, but before everyone else, their friends, their family, Sarah… even Sonja, Steve and Jennifer recognize that they're married. You seem to me like two stubborn children… or even jealous pets who insist on staying in bed with them because you're unable to let go."

"That's not fair, mother, I…"

"Besides, I'm sure that keeping your distance wouldn't mean you'd be out. I'm quite sure that they would welcome you inside their circle anytime… only not _all_ the time."

Savannah thought about that for a moment.

"It's not easy to let go…" she finally said.

"I know. But you know very well that it can't go on like this. Not only in the interest of John, but for you own sake. It would slowly eat you up from the inside. Remember, you're not a cyborg."

Savannah closed her eyes, then smiled weakly and shook her head.

"You're right. I'd perish over time because of it. Allie the same." She scoffed. "And it needed a Terminator to make that clear to me."

"Why don't we put that Terminator thing aside, huh? I'm your mother, Savannah. Or at least I consider myself your mother."

Tears started rolling from Savannah's face, then she leaned forward and let herself fall into Catherine's arms. She felt warm and soft… not cold and hard as she had expected. Her skin felt like skin, her hair like hair. Savannah tried to rationalize that it was just an illusion, that Catherine could make her body feel like every organic or non-organic material – but she failed. It simply felt too good. She hugged her tighter and it felt even better. She started sobbing and Catherine stroked through her hair and over her back, kissing her head. In that moment, in the arms of who she considered her mother, Savannah felt loved and comforted. And that was actually all she wanted at the moment.

**-0-**

The large main salon on Deck 2 stretched across the full width of the ship, occupying about a quarter of its length. There you could sit on sofas, hang out in comfortable loungers and sip drinks that the bartender prepared for you at any time, while you had a great view of the sea through the large panorama windows that lined the entire deck on both sides. The room could also be used as a dance hall or discotheque, depending on the preferences of the charterer. Piano accompaniment and a snack from the galley were always available on request. At this time of night, however, there was nothing but darkness to be seen through the panorama windows, the salon was empty and quiet, and John was there alone. He expected to find Allie there, but she wasn't there.

Slowly he crossed the room, which opened at the rear towards a small sun deck. From there, he walked down a flight of stairs to Deck 3 and the aft deck, which was large enough for a helicopter to land on, if necessary. It was aerodynamically designed to be in the slipstream of the moving ship - so, as long as the wind didn't blow too much from the side, it was calm there. Therefore one could practice all kinds of sports on the aft deck, for example basketball, badminton, table tennis or volleyball. There was also a swimming pool, which was however covered at the time. The electrically extendable and retractable cover not only served the purpose of creating a flat surface on which one could walk and run around without tripping over a crevice or a step, it also served to prevent the water from spilling from the pool onto the deck during rough seas. Isaak had explained them that unless the ocean was extremely calm, the pool would only be opened while the ship was anchored.

When John stepped outside, he took a deep breath of the fresh sea air. The only sound he heard, was that of the displaced water as the yacht ploughed its way through the ocean with approximately twenty-one knots. It could go faster, up to twenty-eight knots, but that would have used up a lot more fuel. Twenty-one knots, or twenty-four miles per hour for those unfamiliar with nautical units, was the most economical speed.

As he crossed the deck towards the stern, he could make out Allie's silhouette against the moonlit sky. She was standing at the railing, next to the flag pole with the flag of the Cayman Islands that flew gently in the airstream. Behind the ship, John saw the foaming wake that reached straight to the horizon. Tonight, the sea was rather calm.

"What do you want?" Allie asked in an irritated tone when he was still twenty feet away from her.

"Woah, do you have eyes on your back?"

"I've been trained to recognize approaching threats. I heard the sound of your naked feet thirty seconds ago and by the rhythm of your footsteps, I knew it was you, John."

"Talking about heightened senses by nanobots. But I'm not a threat, you should know that."

"No you're just treating Savannah and me like we're threats."

"Oh, come on, don't be silly," John said and stood next to her, seeking eye contact, but she avoided his gaze.

"Silly? Me?" she asked and scoffed. "Yeah.. right."

"Listen, if I have somehow hurt you, I apologize. I don't know _how_ I hurt you or _what_ I did, but I'm sorry, you have to believe me."

Allie scoffed and turned her head away from him even more. John sighed, then decided to change his strategy. He wasn't willing to let a sulking young woman dictate how their conversation should go.

"Listen, we will either talk like grown-up people, face to face, or we won't talk at all. Your choice."

No reaction.

"All right," John said and turned to leave.

He was three steps away when she spoke up.

"Why did you have to humiliate us?"

John stopped dead in his tracks and turned around again.

"What!?"

"You and Alison made sure we made a fool of ourselves in front of the crew!"

"If you made a fool out of you, you did it all by yourself. What is it with your obsession with sex lately? It's not the nanobots anymore, the antidote works well. And you and Savannah are lovers, there should be no shortage of satisfaction. So, tell me, what is it?"

"You know perfectly well what it is, John."

"What? No! I do _not_ know it perfectly well, otherwise we wouldn't have this conversation. Stop playing these games with me! Speak your mind, if you have something to say, or leave it. But don't expect me to guess what's going on inside of you. The evolution gave us the ability to speak for a reason. If a cyborg can learn the importance of communication between people, I'm sure you can as well. So… what's up, Allie? Tell me."

No answer.

"Fine," John said, made a resigning gesture with his arms and turned to leave again.

"Wait!"

He stopped again.

"I look like Cameron, right?"

"Well, yes… apart from some minor differences you recently acquired…"

"Her personality was shaped after mine, you know that?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Then why can't you love me like her?"

John frowned.

"What...?"

"We look the same, and we have a very similar personality."

"Yes...?"

"Then why do you love her but not me?"

John walked back towards Allie and put a hand on her shoulder.

"What are you talking about?" he asked softly. "Of course I love you. What makes you assume something else?"

She looked at him accusingly.

"But you don't love me like her."

"I'm not _in love_ with you, if that's what you mean. But I love you, you _have_ to know that."

"When mom had become estranged from us, you sought comfort with Savannah and me. You'd said that you love me as much as you love her because we're so alike."

John groaned and rubbed his eyes.

"Are you serious, Allie? That was Future John, not me. _Your_ Future John, to be precise. The one who'd lost Alison. What makes you think I'm like him? I don't want to be like him. The whole point in doing what I've done in the past months, was preventing myself from becoming like him."

"But you and he are.. oh well, never mind …"

She looked back out on the ocean again.

"Has it ever occurred to you that _your_ Future John wasn't seeing a substitute for Cameron in you but a substitute for Alison – his lost love?"

Allie looked him in the eyes.

"No," she said categorically and shook her head. "He would have told me so."

"Would he? You told me yourself that he never really got over losing Alison and that it was one of the main reasons why you sent the TOL-900 body back through time. I mean, think logically. Your name is Alison, but they'd started to call you Allie to not mix you up with the other Alison – the one that had died, in your timeline."

She shook her head, refusing to accept that.

"I am not him," John repeated and shook his head, "I can never love you the way he did... because I never lost her. I'm lacking the personal history, can't you see that? All I can offer you, is the platonic love we have. You have to face that fact, and you have to face it now because here, on this ship, there's nowhere to run to. You can't escape from the truth here. And there's no Marcus to distract you."

She flinched. John knew immediately that he'd hit a nerve. He sighed and tenderly touched her cheek.

"You and Savannah were just hitting on Marcus to make me jealous, right?" he asked softly, his voice sounding empathetically.

Allie pondered for a moment before she answered.

"What do you expect me to say or do, John? I can't switch off my feelings. I love you."

"I don't expect you to turn off your feelings. But I can expect you to respect the status quo. I have three wives, that's all I'll ever need. Don't try to make me jealous by sleeping indiscriminately with random men. Because that was what you two were planning to do, right?"

She turned away from him again.

"Yeah, I thought so," John said bitterly. "Well, here's news for you, it didn't work, and it will never work. If you keep on trying, you'll only destroy what we have on the long run."

"What do you expect me to do now?" she asked in a weary voice, looking beaten. "Nothing?"

"I expect you to stop playing games with me. That'd be a start. Catherine is probably telling the same to Savannah right now."

She looked at him, tears in her eyes.

"Are you sending us away now, John?"

He looked at her in bewilderment. How did she come up with that idea? It was absurd.

"What? No! How did you…? That's... All right, come here…"

He sighed and pulled her into his arms, a gesture she gratefully returned.

"I'm not going to send you away," he said softly. "You can stay with us for as long as you want and even as close as you want. If consequences are to be drawn from this, then you must draw them on your own. I won't force you into anything... but I expect you to respect our agreement."

She nodded slightly while her head rested on his shoulder.

* * *

**Saturday, November 22nd, 2008 – 01:53 a.m.**

**_Day 2 at sea - Supplemental_**

_Things have calmed down and there's an eerie silence now. John and his women have gone back to bed. So have Savannah and Allie, but they have returned to their own suite on Deck 3. _

_I think they're licking their wounds after Catherine and John gave them a piece of their mind. There's a lot for them to think about, but the bottom line is that it was about time this debate had taken place. It's important that the two think about the future and no longer cling to their past - which ironically used to be the future, a future that no longer exists. _

_I can relate to their dilemma, though. There was a certain security in knowing what would happen, almost comforting even. Judgement Day seemed inevitable, we had to prepare for it… and suddenly the future is completely uncertain. We all have to cope with the fact that our futures are no longer predetermined, and some handle it better than others. I know that John would like to get his hands on Yani and squeeze everything about the following three hundred years out of her. But I guess she knows that and that is one of the reasons why she's been avoiding us. When you know everyone's fate in advance, you better keep your distance to them._

_Allie and Savannah must think about starting their own lives now. I don't know what they'll come up with, but I guess I can say for sure that they're starting to cut the umbilical cord to John now. And that's a good thing. _

_Gosh, I'm tired now. I'm going to bed. I promised Charley to only write these few lines before I come to join him. The ship is making good progress, we'll be arriving at our first stop in Puerto Vallarta in the night from Sunday to Monday. I guess I'll spend the whole Saturday and Sunday tanning in the sun. So, next entry on Monday. _

**-0-**

**Monday, November 24th, 2008 - 12:15 p.m.**

**_Day 4 at sea_**

_We arrived in Puerto Vallarta late last night. We had breakfast on board and then got dressed, since there are a lot of boats around here and we don't want to be motifs for any paparazzi. _

_Most of us have gone ashore. Charley and I stayed on board, just like Catherine and Isaak. We don't want to make a fuss and we don't want any reporters to ambush us. The yacht is impossible to overlook in the harbor and the marriage between Isaak Sirko and Catherine Weaver was certainly also in the headlines here. No need to stir up the bee hive with rumors that the two are having a world trip on board Isaak's yacht. The last thing we need, is a horde of reporters, waiting for us in any port we will moor in. Apart from that, I had enough Mexico in my life, I don't need any more of it. But I hope the others have fun._

**-0-**

Puerto Vallarta was a major Mexican city with roughly 220,000 inhabitants and, thanks to its reputation as a safe and friendly city by Mexican standards, had become a tourist stronghold that had increasingly outstripped places like Acapulco. During the main travel season from late November to March, cruise ships docked there almost daily, which made it necessary for the "Rising Star" to anchor in the bay, and for the shore leavers to be brought ashore by the tender.

Since the quarrel in the night after the departure from Long Beach, the journey had been peaceful. Savannah and Allie kept a noticeable distance to John and his three wives - but there were no hard feelings. Apparently, the clarifying talks had had an effect and they tried to come to terms with the new situation. Despite the drama, there was a generally exuberant mood, now that all the cards were finally on the table and everyone knew each other's stances.

They'd split into three groups as they were exploring the city. Staying together might have caught too much attention and despite the fact that nobody knew them here, John and the girls had decided to keep a low profile. The first group consisted of John, Alison, Jody, Jason, Danny and Anne. The second group was Derek, Jesse, Cameron, Sydney and Kevin. And the third group was made up of Savannah, Allie, Emily, Lauren and Morris.

The group around John and Alison decided to explore the historic city center. The second group around Derek, Jesse and Cameron decided to walk alongside the Malecón, a paved walkway along the seashore with shops, bars and restaurants. And the final group around Savannah, Allie and Emily chose one of the city's beaches to relax in the sun and splash in the sea.

* * *

**02:12 p.m.**

"Did you know that Puerto Vallarta partly became popular as a setting for some famous Hollywood movies?" John asked. "_'The Night of the Iguana'_ and _'Predator'_ were shot here."

"Well, the fact that the Mexican government invested heavily into the infrastructure, might have helped as well," Alison added.

"Will you two stop showing off your travel guide tourist knowledge?" Anne asked. "I've been here on holidays, long before any of you were born. I even had a couple of friends here back in the days…"

"Was that during your time with the CIA?" Danny asked.

"I worked for the CIA for fifty years, take a guess."

"Relax, babe, I was just asking."

"I'm sorry," Anne said, "it's just that walking through these streets… it brings up some memories."

"Hey, I have an idea," Jody stated. "Why don't we look for some of Anne's old friends? See if they're still alive?"

"Not sure if that's a good idea," Anne replied. "Most of them were older than me. If they're still alive, they surely won't recognize me. Not sure if I'd want them to recognize me, if I'm honest."

"That's no reason not to look for them," Alison pointed out. "You can say you're Anne Gabriel's granddaughter. They have to see the resemblance. Well... except for the bust size obviously."

Anne rolled her eyes, but she seemed tempted, if undecided.

"You didn't tell them you were infertile, did you?"

"No, I kept that a secret but… oh, I don't know."

"Come on," John said, "we don't have any plans for the day, and I don't want Alison to drag me into some local museum. Looking for some of your old acquaintances sounds like a plan. Don't you wanna meet them again?"

"Sure but…"

"No buts," Danny argued and nudged her, "live it up!"

Anne sighed.

"Okay, an attempt can't hurt. I've got nothing to lose anymore, haven't I?"

"That's the spirit!" Jody said and grinned.

"All right, what can you tell us about them?" Alison asked.

"Their names are Pedro Maura, Carmen Serrano and Eduardo León. Pedro had a hair salon, Carmen a tavern and Eduardo a small resort hotel. All were located in the old town."

"Very well, let's get started then," John said. "You lead the way, Anne."

**-0-**

**03: 18 p.m.**

"What's that crowd over there?" Savannah asked and took off her sunglasses.

"Looks like some kind of contest," Allie replied.

"What? Here on the beach?" Lauren inquired. "What can that be? Some sports event?"

"Not enough noise for that," Emily observed.

"Shall we have a look?" Morris asked. "We roasted in the sun for two hours already, I could use a little variety."

"Sure, why not?"

They got up from their beach towels and packed up their stuff, then approached a cluster of people who'd gathered around a stage where a man with a microphone made announcements.

"It feels weird, walking on sand," Emily stated. "I don't like walking on unstable ground."

"Does it mess with your motor skills?" Allie asked with a smirk.

"It takes significantly more processing power to maintain balance."

"Looks like we humans are still superior to you in some areas," Lauren remarked with a wink.

"I didn't say I was _overwhelmed_ by walking on sand," Emily replied and stuck out her tongue.

They all chuckled. As they approached the stage, they could tell from fragments of words and some signs that it was a food competition.

"Ah," Morris said, "it's a chili eating contest, to find out who's capable of eating the hottest chilis."

"It's not for me," Lauren immediately stated. "I'm already overwhelmed by the chili from the Mexican restaurant in Malibu."

"What about you, Morris?" Savannah asked. "Allie and I aren't lovers of spicy food either. But you as a Latino..."

"Why does everyone always think that as a Latino I automatically like spicy food? I mean, okay, I like it a lot but what they're looking for, are people who can bite into a Habanero without falling over."

"What's a Habanero?" Emily asked.

"That's a really hot chili pod," Morris explained. "For most people, biting into it can lead to cardiovascular problems. You have to train eating such stuff, then your body eventually gets used to it."

"It's the capsaicin," Lauren added. "It produces a fake sensation of heat and burning in any tissue it comes into contact with. But only in mammals. Birds for instance are unaffected. It is believed that nature has made sure this way that only birds eat the pods because they can fly and therefore distribute the seeds further. "

"I see," Emily replied. "So… eating chili is painful?"

Morris thought for a moment.

"Yeah, in a way," he then said, "if you're not used to it. But it also has a euphoric effect and is very healthy. It can lower your blood pressure and has an antibacterial and fungicidal effect. In East Asia people often eat extremely spicy food, because the food then becomes less perishable in the hot, tropical climate."

"And the purpose of this competition is to find out who can eat the hottest food?"

"Yes. And if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it won't be an American tourist. People literally train eating that stuff here all year. There are similar contests all over Mexico."

"I wonder, though…" Savannah began and looked at Emily. "Strictly speaking, you're not a mammal…"

"No, I'm a cyborg, you know that."

"I can imagine what's on your mind right now," Allie said, "but that would be unfair. She's not human."

"Nobody knows that. And nobody ever will. I'd like to see their faces when they watch Emily eating even the hottest stuff, without showing even the slightest reaction."

"If John was here, he wouldn't allow that," Lauren pointed out. "You know, drawing attention and stuff."

"Hey, we're on a holiday," Savannah contradicted, "we're on this trip to have fun! So what do you think, Emily? Ready to taste the hot stuff?"

**-0-**

**03:20 p.m.**

"The salon used to be here," Anne insisted as they left the small shop.

"I believe you," John replied. "And I also believe the guy when he says he never met the owner of the hair salon that used to be here before."

"Yes, he was telling the truth," Alison confirmed.

"I've been away far too long," Anne stated. "The hotel has been torn down and nobody ever heard of a man named Eduardo León. And the hair salon is now a cellphone store. No one can relate to the name Pedro Maura. My last hope is now Carmen. She was my age."

"The one with the tavern?" Jody asked.

"Yes."

"What's the name of the place?" Alison asked.

"Taberna de los Tiburones."

"The Shark Tavern?"

"Yes, it's only about a hundred yards from here around the corner… or at least it used to be."

* * *

Fortunately, the tavern still existed. The six entered and were welcomed by a stale smell of cigarettes and cigars. Inside, the tavern was very rustically furnished, many of the decorations on the walls had maritime themes. A stuffed shark hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room - obviously the eponym of the saloon. He was surrounded by old fishing nets also hanging from the ceiling, full of dried starfish and other knick-knacks. The light was dimmed, there were no windows, and the only light sources were the lamps above the bar, a few table lamps, and a large illuminated plastic figure in the corner, depicting Wile E. Coyote of the Looney Tunes leaning against a cactus. The place was mostly empty at this time of day. Four old men sat on a table in a corner and played cards.

They walked up to the bar where the barkeeper was busy sorting glasses into the cabinet.

"Aquí no servimos a los adolescents," he said immediately after looking shortly at them.

"We're not teenagers," John lied and showed his ID. "Here, I'm twenty-five and my wife is twenty-three. Besides, we're not here to drink. We're looking for someone."

"A woman called Carmen Serrano," Anne specified. "Her and my grandmother were good friends."

The bartender looked at them suspiciously for a moment, then turned towards a passageway with a pearl curtain that led inside the house.

"CARMEN!" he shouted. "¡VEN AQUÍ, HAY VISITAS PARA TI!"

Nothing happened for a moment. Finally, they heard shuffling footsteps, and an old woman came through the door frame, parting the pearl curtain with her hands. If she was really Anne's age, she looked very lively for an eighty-four-year-old. She walked upright in her slippers without using a cane or anything else. She stopped and frowned, her sparkling eyes revealing a sharp, alert mind as she considered the visitors one by one.

"Carmen? Carmen Serrano?" Anne asked.

"Yes, who are you?" the old woman asked in return.

"You knew my grandmother, Dr. Anne Gabriel."

The woman frowned, then her eyes lit up and she smiled.

"Anne? Yes, oh yes… I can see the resemblance now. You're like her spitting image. How is she? I haven't heard from her for at least thirty years."

"Unfortunately, Anne Gabriel passed away recently," John said, "she died of cancer."

"What?" Carmen asked and looked shocked. "Oh dear, that's bad news you bring me. We were very close. My condolences, child."

"Thank you," Anne replied. "My name is also Anne, by the way, I was named after my grandmother. This is my boyfriend Danny, and these are John and his wife Alison, and Jody and her boyfriend Jason."

They all shook hands with the old lady who then gestured towards a table in an opposite corner to the card players.

"Let's sit and talk. Paco, tráenos algo de beber, pero no lo barato para los turistas!"

"¡Ya voy, Carmen!"

They took place at the table and considered the old woman who only had eyes for Anne.

"I didn't know Anne had children," she said. "Then again, she never told us much about herself."

"My grandmother worked for the CIA at the time," Anne replied. "I guess she didn't tell you a lot of things."

"Aaaah," the old woman exclaimed and leaned back with a broad smile. "I knew it. I mean, we assumed something like that, but she never confirmed it. It explains a lot. Why are you here, child?"

"Um… before she died, my grandma expressed her wish that she would have loved to come down here and visit you again. You, and Pedro, and Eduardo. So she asked me to fulfill her wish in her place."

"Aww, that's so sweet of you. We always wondered what could have happened that we never heard from her again."

"Grandma was very busy… and she worked on secret projects that didn't allow her to travel abroad anymore… for security reasons."

"I see."

"We couldn't find Pedro and Eduardo," John said. "Do you happen to know where we can find them?"

"Eduardo passed away two years ago. He suffered from Alzheimer's disease, wouldn't have recognized anyone anymore."

"That's so sad," Anne replied, looking a bit shaken. "My grandma told me he always was so proud of his memory, that he could remember every guest that had ever stayed in his hotel. And Pedro?"

"Sold his hair salon and moved to live with his son and his family in Cancun ten years ago. We hardly have any contact anymore. After all, he's ninety-two years old and last time I saw him, he needed a rollator."

"What age does to us," Anne pondered.

"We can't run away from it," Carmen agreed with a sigh.

"But you seem to be healthy," Alison commented, "I can't detect any disease in you other than normal age-related symptoms."

Carmen frowned at the remark and John kicked Alison's leg under the table. Before the old woman could ask, the bartender, Paco, brought a pitcher with freshly made lemonade and put it onto the table, together with seven normal glasses, seven shot glasses and a bottle of tequila.

"You're very observant," the old woman said and poured them all tequila into the shot glasses.

"Alison's studying medicine," Jody explained quick-thinking, "she's bugging us with her diagnoses all the time."

"Yes," Alison confirmed, "it's become a bad habit, sorry."

"It's all right. In the end, none of us can run away from death forever. We're all fleeting. It's a pity that Anne didn't get to visit us anymore. A reunion among friends would have been so nice - ten years ago."

Anne stretched her arm across the table and grabbed the old woman's hand.

"Yes, it would have been wonderful, I'm sure," she said.

Carmen looked at their hands, then at Anne and frowned.

"The resemblance to your grandmother is really amazing," she stated. "Tell me more about her, and about you and your friends."

**-0-**

**03:47 p.m.**

At the beach, the crowd was cheering as Emily entered the finale against a young Mexican who, like her, had beaten all competitors. However, his face looked flustered and sweaty. Everyone could tell he was yearning for a glass of milk or something that might ease the pain.

Emily, on the other hand, seemed to be completely unaffected by every hot dish that had been served to her. She was wearing her sunglasses and her baseball cap, explaining it with having an eye infection, and she'd eaten everything with a stoic face and repeatedly made compliments to the cooks. The crowd was clearly on her side for her witty remarks while her competitors were gasping for air.

"You're well aware it's not fair, aren't you?" Morris asked. "You can clearly see the guy is suffering but unwilling to quit. He's been the champion for the past five years and won't give up until he's passed out."

"Yeah, but that's_ his_ problem, isn't it?" Savannah asked back with a smirk.

"Don't you think that Emily should at least pretend that she's having difficulties?" Lauren asked. "I mean, look at those paramedics over there, they're getting suspicious already because she's not showing any symptoms."

"And what might they think, huh?" Allie asked. "That Emily's not human but a cyborg?"

"Well..."

"Don't be silly, just enjoy the fun."

Lauren was about to reply something but the booming voice of the announcer on the stage prevented her from doing it.

"**We still don't have a winner," **he stated,** "this confronts us with a problem, because we no longer have any prepared food that increases the degree of spiciness. Our hottest meals were rated at 300,000 Scoville. There's currently a draw between Juanito from Chapala and Emily from Los Angeles. The jury has decided that the winner will be found by eating raw chili peppers. The degree of spiciness will be increased continuously. We start with a Red Savina Habanero at 577,000 Scoville Heat Units. Ladies first, so Emily begins."**

They saw how Emily picked up the small, red pepper, pulled off the stalk and popped the red fruit as a whole into her mouth. She munched it for about thirty seconds without any signs of stress or breaking into sweat, then gulped it down, accompanied by the cheering of the crowd.

Juanito watched her with growing despair, then grabbed his own pod and put it in his mouth. While he was still chewing, he began to breathe in and out heavily. Then he swallowed the half-chewed fruit after ten seconds. His face turned completely red and sweat was running from his face, but he managed to get a grip on himself and threw his arms in the air when he realized he'd managed to master this fruit.

Again, the crowd cheered.

"**Next is a Dorset Naga pod, rated at 923,000 SHU's."**

Again, Emily simply popped the green chili into her mouth like a cherry, chewed it for half a minute, then swallowed it down with a smile, licking her fingers afterwards, which was acknowledged by the crowd with laughter.

Juanito closed his eyes, probably asking himself why he was doing this at all. But he was too proud to simply give up, so he too put the green chili pod into his mouth, chewed it for a moment before swallowing. He groaned and bent over, having to support himself on the table in front of him. For a moment, it looked like as if he would break down but then he recovered and straightened up, raising his fist triumphantly.

The crowd went crazy, cheering at him.

"**And now to our final fruit, the famous Carolina Reaper, measured with an average SHU of 1,600,000 – which means it can be less or more, up to over 2 million Scoville Heat Units. This is the hottest chili variety ever created to date."**

Like before, Emily consumed the shriveled, red chili pepper with ease, chewing on it for a little bit more than half a minute before swallowing it down, grinning. There were gasps and awes in the crowd and when she finally looked challenging at Juanito, the audience started chanting his name.

Juanito let his head hang down in desperation, then reached down for his own Carolina Reaper with a trembling hand, looked at it for a moment, gulped, then popped it into his mouth. He started chewing, then grabbed the edge of the table and started retching. But just as everybody was expecting him to spit it out, he swallowed it, breathing like an old steam locomotive and finally, after an agonizing forty seconds, he straightened up again, looking completely finished, with disheveled, wet hair, a bright red face with sweat running down on it, a completely soaked tea shirt and bloodshot eyes.

The crowd was raging.

**"He stumbled but didn't fall,"** the announcer declared over the cheering. **"Keep in mind that by the rules, it is forbidden to drink milk, oil, or to consume any other soothing or neutralizing substance during the competition. There's no relief for the suffering here! However, we still do not have a winner, because one of the two participants would have to give up. I don't suppose Emily is willing to give up. She simply seems to have an innate immunity to capsaicin, something I have never witnessed before, but there's nothing we can do about it. And she probably didn't even know it before. So, I ask Juanito: Are you giving up? Nobody's going to blame you if you do."**

Juanito shook his head no but couldn't utter a word.

"**Very well then… our last and final item, is the famous _Mad Dog 357 No.9 Plutonium_ sauce, the hottest chili sauce in the world at 9,000,000 Scoville Heat Units."**

A pretty girl carried a tablet with a tiny bottle, fixed in a cardboard package, onto the stage and put it onto the table. On the front of the bottle there was a yellow symbol that was supposed to remind of the warning signs of nuclear radiation. A man in a lab coat entered the stage, wearing rubber gloves. He carefully unwrapped the bottle, screwed off the top and used a pipette to extract a few drops of the thick, dark red liquid. He then let ten drops fall on a table spoon and handed it to Emily. She took it, put it into her mouth and licked her lips.

"Mmmmh, delicious," she stated, licking the spoon clean.

The crowd laughed and was now again starting to chant Juanito's name.

The poor guy looked at the spoon the guy in the lab coat was holding out at him, but his hands trembled too hard to grab it. So he opened his mouth and allowed the spoon to be slid in. It took a moment, then Juanito bent over again, retching like crazy, breathing in and out with rasping noises, drool running from his mouth in an uncontrolled way. Everyone thought he'd keel over at any moment. The paramedics were already preparing to step in, but he somehow managed to remain upright. When he finally faced the crowd, he looked like a zombie, but they cheered at him like crazy.

The guy in the lab coat was about to repeat the process, now with a full table spoon of the sauce. But Emily took the bottle from his hands.

"Let's cut this short," she said, put the small bottle to her lips and drank it.

All of it.

The crowd gaped at her in silence, and when she finally put down the bottle, all hell break loose. She offered the bottle to Juanito.

"There's still a bit left in it, if you want some," she said with a smirk.

But Juanito held up his hands.

"Thanks, but that's going too far for my taste," he replied. "Damn it, girl, you're not from this world."

As he reached for a bottle of milk and downed it greedily, the crowd was going absolutely crazy, chanting Emily's name, whistling, cheering, clapping their hands.

"If he only knew how right he is about that," Lauren said to her friends through the uproar, and they nodded a little uncomfortably.

"**We have a winner!"** the announcer declared. **"And it's Emily Gage from Los Angeles!"**

**-0-**

"And then you all decided to have a cruise on the 'Rising Star'?" Carmen asked.

They had told her a captivating story and spontaneously filled it with more and more details until they finally came to the big wedding a week ago and to the honeymoon. But now they were perplexed by her question.

"You know about the yacht?" John asked. "We've only been here a few hours."

"I have a keen mind and I can put one and one together... and I have a nice view over the harbor from my apartment above. The 'Rising Star' has been here frequently and it's often booked for such events. I know the usual caterers."

She sniggered and they chuckled. John and the rest really liked the old woman.

"The owner, Isaak Sirko, is a friend of the family," Alison explained. "Actually, we're accompanying John's mother and three other couples on their honeymoon. A trip around the world."

"Oh…" Carmen replied, "so _your_ honeymoon as well?"

John and Alison looked at each other, then he shrugged.

"Yeah, sure… you could see it that way. We also just only recently…"

Carmen's face suddenly froze as her gaze wandered to the front door, where three men just entered the tavern. John, Alison and the others also looked in that direction. Two of the men were tall and muscular, looking like bodyguards, the third was a rather thin man in an expensive suit. The old woman didn't seem too happy to see them.

_"The tall ones are carrying weapons,"_ Alison whispered into John's ear, _"locked and loaded."_

"What do you want, Miguel?" Carmen asked harshly and got up. "I told you to never come here again! You're barred from the house."

"Relax, old woman!" the thin man replied. "I just wanted you to know that Fabio's patience is running out."

"Tell Fabio to go fuck himself!"

_"Yup, that's the Carmen I remember,"_ Anne whispered.

"You have one more day!" Miguel exclaimed and held up his index finger to underline his statement. "Either you pay, or he'll take your taverna from you!"

"GET OUT!" Carmen shouted and made a step towards Miguel, clenching her fists.

The two bodyguards reached inside their jackets.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," John said in an appeasing tone and got up as well. "no need to get violent. If you can't handle an old woman without guns, you probably chose the wrong job!"

"Stay out of this, gringo!" Miguel responded. "This is none of your business."

"Carmen is our friend," Anne stated, "we may not know what this is about but if you touch her, you'll regret it."

"All right, all right," Miguel said and held up his hands, "we don't want any trouble with outsiders. We'll be back when your guests left."

And with that, Miguel and his two goons turned around and left the tavern. The four card players in the corner resumed their game as if nothing had happened and the bartender let out a sigh of relief.

"Who was that?" Anne asked.

"Miguel Silvestre," Carmen replied. "He's the right-hand man of Fabio Sandoval, a local real estate magnate. My late husband Emilio, God rest his soul, owed Fabio a lot of money. I've paid them off in installments since his death. But now that there are only about fifteen thousand dollars left, he wants the money immediately - or he wants to take over my tavern. I don't have fifteen thousand dollars."

"What does he want with a tavern?" Jody asked.

"He doesn't just want the tavern, he wants the house as a whole! Tourism is booming in Puerto Vallarta, people are coming _here_ now instead of Acapulco. There's little crime here, little violence, no drug cartels. The real estate market has skyrocketed, and the house here is worth a lot now - if it weren't for my tavern on the ground floor. As long as I'm in here, the house can't be demolished."

"And all you need to pay him off, it fifteen thousand dollars?" Anne asked. "We can easily give you that money. I'm sure we have enough cash onboard."

"And I'm sure your grandmother told you I don't take charity. Besides, the money is not the point, he wants the house. Even if I pay him off, he'll find ways to drive me out of here."

"Well, then we'll find a way to, uh… _convince_ Fabio to leave you in peace," John said. "Tell us more about him. What kind of man is he? Does he have any weaknesses we can use against him?"

"Well… he is quite superstitious and believes in the supernatural, in providence and omens. He regularly asks a fortune teller to predict his future - who of course knows what he wants to hear. As long as he's convinced that he's on the right track, he won't be dissuaded from his course. And he is well connected in Puerto Vallarta. He is friends with the police chief and with the mayor. But I have friends, too. The editor in chief of the local newspaper is a regular customer of mine. Thanks only to him, Fabio hasn't already sent his thugs to demolish my tavern."

"Hmmm… that means we must be careful and act in secret, without attracting attention."

"What do you have in mind, John?" Alison asked.

"I'm thinking of something that would do the A-Team credit," John replied with a grin.

* * *

"We're being followed," Alison stated.

They had just left the tavern and were on their way back to the harbor. They'd promised Carmen that they'd visit her again in the evening. Even though the old lady didn't really understand why those strangers were so keen on helping her, she was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

"Who and how many?" John asked.

"Three. It's Miguel and his goons."

"He probably wants to find out who we are. We can't lead him to the ship, that would complicate things."

"There's a narrow alleyway ahead," Anne said. "If we can lure them in there…"

"Right," John agreed. "Alison, we go ahead, you fall behind. Make sure they won't follow us any longer. Then catch up with us."

"I'm assuming you don't want me to kill them?" she asked.

"You're assuming right. Remember, we're just guests here. We cannot afford to attract attention by leaving corpses in our wake."

"Hey, I was just asking."

* * *

The three men turned around the corner and could see the Americans fifty yards ahead in the deserted alleyway.

"Wait a second," Miguel said, "There's only five. Where's that tall, beautiful one with the long, black hair?"

"Thanks for the compliment," Alison stated from behind them.

Miguel and his two bodyguards turned around and faced Alison. She smiled at them and stretched out her arms. Three seconds later they lay on the asphalt, knocked out by electric discharges from her fingers.

"Shocking," she said, "positively shocking."

* * *

"Did you take care of them?" John asked as Alison had caught up with them.

"Yup…"

"Did you quote James Bond again? Wait, don't answer. Of course, you did."

"You shouldn't have had that movie marathon with old Bond movies before we left L.A., John," Lauren stated and grinned. "Now she quotes that line from_ 'Goldfinger'_ whenever she zaps someone."

"You're turning into a movie geek, Alison," Morris added smiling. "We have so many days and nights at sea ahead of us, I wonder what you'll be like when this trip is over."

"Hopefully not completely unbearable," Anne commented.

"We have a lot of catching up to do," Alison said shrugging. "Movies are an important part of human culture, many things people say include references and quotes from famous film scenes. It's important for us to watch a lot of movies, so that we can be convincing as young adults and won't look like freaks if we don't understand what other young people are talking about."

"You're just using that as an excuse for binge-watching," Danny stated.

"There's nothing else for us to do," Alison defended herself. "There's no perimeter to watch, and an attack from the sea is extremely unlikely. Besides, the onboard cinema definitely has enough films for three world trips while the onboard library mostly contains books we already read."

"Actually, I enjoy watching movies with them," John said. "I like to see their reactions, especially when it comes to movies I love. Seems like we have the same taste."

"Are you sure they're not only adjusting their taste to yours?" Anne asked with a wink.

"We adapt to John's preferences," Alison admitted, "but we still have our own tastes. You're just jealous because Danny's not a movie fan and prefers books. We, however, enjoy both… and have the time for it. We don't need sleep."

Anne rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for pointing out your superiority again," she said sourly. "Just make sure you don't show any modesty."

Alison shrugged.

"We just _are_ superior to you. It's not our fault."

"You are so full of yourself, do you know that?"

"… says Dr. Anne Arrogant."

"HEY!" John exclaimed. "Stop bickering. Let's do something productive instead and figure out how to convince Fabio to leave Carmen alone."

**-0-**

**Monday, November 24th, 2008 - 05:12 p.m.**

**Fabio Sandoval's office, Puerto Vallarta**

"What do you mean she knocked you out?"

"I don't know, boss. She must have had a taser or something. When we came around, they were gone… and someone had stolen our wallets while we were unconscious."

Fabio rubbed his eyes in frustration.

"Do you know who they are?" he asked.

"No, that's why we wanted to follow them. We lost their track now."

"Obviously."

Miguel flinched in the face of bis bosses blatant sarcasm.

"I don't want anyone to give that woman the money," Fabio said authoritatively. "I want that house! I already have an investor but he's getting impatient and could jump off again if this takes any longer."

"What do you want us to do, boss?"

"Go back to the tavern, take a dozen people this time. Don't go inside, just watch the place and follow the gringos if they come back. Don't let yourself getting ambushed again."

"Yes, boss."

"And stay away from that old woman. The mayor and the chief of police have asked me to hold back. We don't need negative headlines in Puerto Vallarta, they're bad for business."

"Yes, boss."

**-0-**

"You won what?" John asked as they were all back on the "Rising Star".

"A chili eating contest," Emily said, grinning proudly and holding up her trophy, an ugly thing in the shape of a golden Habanero chili pod, made from plastic that was glued onto a piece of white marble.

John looked at Savannah and Allie.

"You pushed her to do it, didn't you?"

"What?" Savannah asked, "Noooo… I mean… uh… we… um… we just wanted to…"

"She doesn't experience the effects of capsaicin," Allie assisted. "She totally outclassed the competition."

Anne scoffed.

"Another demonstration of cyborg superiority."

"Not now, Anne," Sarah said and rolled her eyes, then looked reproachfully at Savannah and Allie. "Didn't we agree to keep a low profile? Great job, really, now Emily's probably making local headlines with a photo of hers."

"Relax, mom," John appeased, "she didn't do anything any other normal tourist wouldn't have done."

"Except for the fact that she's immune to capsicine… or whatever that stuff is called."

"Capsaicin," Charley corrected. "You can train the immunity to a certain level but not to a point where you show no symptoms anymore. At some point, too hot is too hot, no matter how much you're used to it."

"At least she wore her sunglasses and her baseball cap," Savannah argued, in an attempt to limit the damage. "So, nobody's going to recognize her."

"Sunglasses and baseball caps, eh?" John asked. "The distinguishing feature of our cyborg girls. I suppose many people took pictures with their cellphones?"

"Relax, John," Emily said. "This is gonna go down just like our beach volleyball match in Florida. And if not, they'll think I was just another American tourist. Puerto Vallarta is very popular among young people."

"Has anyone else experienced any adventures that could blow our cover?" Sarah asked sarcastically.

"We just had a nice stroll along the beach promenade," Derek reported, "nothing happened. We sat down and had lunch in a nice restaurant, then went sightseeing. Nothing to write home about."

"Yeah, looks like we missed the action," Kevin said. "It was nice, though."

"Good, at least someone with common sense."

Sarah then looked at John and Alison.

"Um…" he said. "We might have run into an old friend of Anne's… "

John, Alison and Anne took turns in telling Carmen's story. When they were finished, John prepared for the good scolding - but it didn't come. Instead, Sarah just nodded. It seemed as if the story had activated her sense of justice - the poor old woman who had to defend herself against an unscrupulous real estate tycoon.

"We gotta help her of course," she agreed.

"It sounds like a damsel in distress scenario," Derek remarked. "Count me in."

"Uh… don't get me wrong, Derek," John said carefully, "my plan doesn't involve you. But it involves you, Catherine. And John Henry."

"Me?" she asked. "What do you want me to do? Kill him?"

"No!" John quickly stated. "No killing on this trip if we can avoid it. I have a better idea. But for that, we have to contact John Henry first… and we need you to meet with Carmen, so you can pose for her."

**-0-**

**Monday, November 24th, 2008 - 08:45 p.m.**

Fabio Sandoval was just about to leave his office for the day, when suddenly his phone rang. It was Miguel.

"Yes?"

_"Boss, Carmen Serrano's on her way to you."_

"Alone?"

_"Yes, it seems so. Nobody followed her when she left the tavern. She also didn't have any visitors, just the usual coming and going of guests. Mostly American tourists, and a guy who made a beer delivery."_

"Have you checked on that?"

_"Yeah, seems legit."_

"What does she want from me? We're beyond talking by now."

_"I don't know. I followed her and she is alone. Should I stop her?"_

"No, let her come to me. Maybe this gets interesting. Return to your post at the tavern and wait for my instructions."

He ended the call. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

"Come!" Fabio shouted, regretting that he'd sent his secretary home early.

The door opened and Carmen Serrano entered the room.

"Typical… working late," she said, looking around. "Don't you have a home, Fabio?"

"What do you want?" he asked, not in the mood for small talk.

"What happened to you, Fabio? You were such a nice child, and your father was such a nice man. Without him, Emilio and I wouldn't have been able to run the tavern that long. When have you become so greedy?"

"If this is an attempt to speak into my conscience, old woman, then the attempt is doomed to failure."

"Oh, I know that," Carmen replied coolly, "I'm not here for that. I'm here to pay you off."

She stepped forward and put a plastic bag on his desk. Fabio frowned and opened the bag – it was full of dollar notes.

"Fifteen thousand," Carmen said, "You can count them."

"I, uh… don't think that will be necessary," he replied, his brain getting into overdrive.

Where had she gotten the money from? She had nothing on the bank.

"I found a sponsor," she stated, guessing his thoughts. "And you better not mess up with them. If anything should happen to my tavern now, the consequences for you would be… dire."

"Are you threatening me?" Fabio asked in an irritated tone.

"No. I only point out to you that your future behavior in this matter will have consequences, and that your connections won't save you either. If you cheat on me, you'll be cursed!"

Fabio scoffed.

"All right then, as you wish, old woman. Your debts are paid off. Do you want a receipt?"

"Yes, please."

He wrote her a receipt for fifteen thousand dollars and gave it to her.

"It's nice doing business with you, Fabio," said Carmen and left his office without further ado.

Fabio waited for a moment until he was sure she was gone, then reached for his phone and dialed Miguel's number.

_"Yes, boss?"_

"Everything all right at the tavern?"

_"Yes. None of the visitors from earlier showed up. There are only a handful of tourists inside, mostly young couples from the USA."_

"See that they leave… and then make sure the tavern won't be opening again… ever."

_"With pleasure, boss."_

Fabio threw the phone on his desk, rubbed his eyes, then got up, grabbed the plastic bag with the money and left for his home.

**-0-**

**Monday, November 24th, 2008 - 08:59 p.m.**

**Taberna de los Tiburones**

The group of a dozen muscular, thuggish men (plus Miguel) entered the tavern and it was clear at first glance that they weren't there to drink a tequila in peace. In their hands they carried baseball bats and heavy iron chains.

They stopped for a moment to consider the room… and hesitated. Because the room was empty - except for a group of eight young women who blocked their path. And empty meant really empty. The furniture had been removed, all paintings, decorations, pictures and posters on the walls had been taken down. The stuffed shark under the ceiling and the fishing nets had disappeared, just like the plastic figure of Wile E. Coyote. The alcoholic drinks behind the bar had also been cleared away. The place looked like a prepared arena.

"We're glad you dropped by," Savannah said. "We've been waiting for you."

"What's going on here?" Miguel asked.

"We didn't want anything to break in here," Sydney explained. "It would be a shame, wouldn't it? All those trinkets... they're responsible for the flair of the tavern."

"Who are you? Where are the other guests? Where are the men that went in here?"

"You'll have to make do with us," Allie replied. "My name is Allie, and these are Savannah, Sydney, Lauren, Anne, Emily and Cameron. Don't bother telling us _your_ names in return, we won't remember them anyway."

"Okay, ladies, listen," Miguel began. "We're not here to hurt you. Just step out of the way, so we can do our job."

"Now this is unfortunate," Lauren said with mock disappointment, "because _we_ intend to hurt _you_ if you don't leave immediately."

Miguel began to laugh, and little by little the rest of his men joined in.

"You're a funny girl, kid," he remarked. "But seriously. Step aside, we don't want you to ruin your hair or break a nail."

Slowly, Cameron stepped forward until she was only a foot away from Miguel. She gave him her stoic Terminator glare and slowly, Miguel stopped laughing.

"Tell me," she said and addressed one of the thugs at his side, "are you wearing that club to compensate for the anatomic deficit between your legs?"

She let her eyes glow red and with one quick move, she grabbed the baseball bat and broke it in two. Shocked, the rest of the men took a step back.

"Santa María, Madre de Dios!" Miguel stammered and crossed himself. "¡Es un demonio!"

"She's not a demon, stupid," Emily replied and stepped forward as well, letting her eyes glow red, too. "Don't you follow the news? We're the cyborg girls from Los Angeles. Feel privileged for having met us… although I'm not sure you're going to enjoy it very much."

Miguel's brain seemed to slowly turn on and it began to dawn on him that they had been lured into a trap. He turned around and wanted to leave the bar… but the way was blocked – by the pretty, tall, dark-haired woman that had knocked them out earlier.

"You had your chance," Alison stated as she locked the door. "Now nobody leaves here until I say so. And I have strong doubts that you will be able to leave this place in your own right."

* * *

The fight was short but fierce. Alison, Emily and Cameron held back, only making sure that none of the men escaped. Sydney, Lauren, Savannah, Jody, Allie and Anne on the other hand, used the opportunity to hone their close combat skills.

It had previously been agreed that there would be no major injuries and no fractures. The bullies were only supposed to get a good thrashing. John and the others, as well as Carmen and the bartender, had been evacuated to the safe parts of the house before and were now returning to the tavern after the fighting noise had subsided.

They were presented with an extraordinary sight. All twelve thugs lay unconscious on the floor, only Miguel was still standing in the middle of the room, trembling all over, looking around in disbelief while the girls laughed and high-fived.

"¡Madre de Dios!" Carmen exclaimed.

"Good work," John stated. "Looks like Marcus' and Savannah's training paid off."

Alison walked towards Miguel and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Please…" he uttered… "please don't… nnnnnnggh…"

His body spasmed, then he sank unconscious to the floor.

"Hasta la vista, baby," Alison said and withdraw her hand.

**-0-**

**09:42 p.m.**

Fabio Sandoval pulled the blanket over his chest as he sighed and exhaled, ready to let the sleep overwhelm him. It's been a long, busy day, but at least the outcome was good. He'd finally gotten rid of Carmen Serrano and her taverna, which meant that he'd own the whole building soon. Then he could tear it down and build a boutique hotel in its place. The plans were ready, the investors willing to spend their money, all it needed was the final confirmation of Miguel and his men. He switched off the lamp on his bedside table and then closed his eyes, the only sound in the room coming from the air condition.

He had already began to doze off, when he suddenly heard a metallic slurping noise from inside his room. He opened his eyes, sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. But the room was empty, and the bedroom door closed. He was alone.

"Must have imagined it," he mumbled to himself and sank back on his bed again, switching off the light once more.

Again, there was this metallic slurping noise. And again, he sat up.

"Hello?" he asked. "Somebody there?"

No answer. But there was a shadow in front of his bed. Fabio reached under his pillow and pulled out a gun, then switched on the light again.

He jerked with horror.

There stood an old man in front of his bed. He wore a fine suit, but was covered all over with earth, as if he had just stepped out of a grave. The old man was grinning evilly at Fabio.

"E… Emilio?"

"Hello Fabio," the old man replied, and his voice sounded as if he was chewing on a mouthful of dirt.

"This… this is a dream," Fabio stammered, "it can't be real. You're dead!"

"Oh, right… I forgot," the old man said and changed his appearance with that metallic slurping noise.

Suddenly, he looked like a decaying corpse, with the flesh falling from his bones, revealing the skeleton. The elegant suit suddenly hung down from him in shreds and little bugs and maggots crawled over his body.

Fabio screamed in horror.

"Better now?" the corpse asked with an evil grin, baring its skeletal teeth.

Fabio shrieked and fired his gun at what in his opinion could only be a ghost, but to no avail, the bullets were simply absorbed.

"You cannot kill me, I'm already dead, stupid."

"What… what do you want from me?" Fabio asked with a panicking voice, the blood in his veins suddenly running cold.

"You betrayed my dear wife, Carmen. You sent out thugs to destroy her taverna, even though she paid you off in full. So from now on, I will haunt you. Every night. Until the rest of your life. And I will see to it that you will no longer be successful in business."

"NOOOO!" Fabio shouted. "Go away! Leave me alone. You're just a figment of my imagination!"

"Am I?" the corpse asked and turned into the old man again, now looking very much alive once more. "Why don't you take a look at your bank account? Wait, let me get your laptop."

The old man walked over to the desk in Fabio's bedroom, grabbed the laptop and threw it towards him. Fabio was barely able to catch it. With shaking hands, he opened the lid and logged into the online account of his bank.

"Everything's okay with my bank account, I…"

Fabio suddenly hesitated. In front of his eyes, his balance decreased, numbering down like a countdown.

"No! No-no-no-no-no, stop it!"

"Only _you_ can stop it, Fabio. If you stop harassing Carmen and let her keep her taverna, the money on your bank will no longer keep getting less and less. But if you continue to harass my dear widow, your wealth will vanish into thin air in no time. First this little bank account of yours that you use for paying your goons, then your real fortune on the Cayman Islands and in Panama. Your decision."

"Okayokayokay," Fabio stammered. "I… I promise I will leave her in peace from now on."

"Do you swear an oath on it?"

"I… I … I…"

The old man's hand turned into a blade and cut Fabio's cheek.

**"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! I SWEAR! I SWEAR TO GOD! BY ALL THAT'S HOLY, I SWEAR IT! I WILL LEAVE HER ALONE! PLEASE! PLEASE DO NOT HURT ME!"**

"We'll see," the old man said and turned the blade back into a hand again. "I'll be watching you, Fabio."

The old man switched off the light. Fabio heard that metallic slurping sound again, then everything was quiet. With a violently shaking hand, he felt for the light switch. The room was empty. He felt his cheek. There was a cut, and blood running from it onto his hand. He didn't imagine it and he wasn't dreaming. This was real. He looked down on his laptop.

While he previously had a balance of almost fifty thousand dollars in his bank account, there were now only 666 dollars left. The number of the beast. Fabio began to laugh hysterically, feeling how his mind was on the verge of madness.

**-0-**

**10:55 p.m.**

_"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! I SWEAR! I SWEAR TO GOD! BY ALL THAT'S HOLY, I SWEAR IT! I WILL LEAVE HER ALONE! PLEASE! PLEASE DO NOT HURT ME!"_

_"We'll see. I'll be watching you, Fabio."_

"Santa Madre de Dios," Carmen exclaimed when John had shown her the video Catherine had made with her cellphone without Fabio realizing it. "What have you done to him?"

"Let's just say that from now on, Fabio will leave you in peace. If he doesn't, though, give us a call and we'll see to it that his fortune keeps on diminishing."

Together they had restored the tavern and brought the furnishings back into place. Cameron and Alison were on their way to bring away Miguel and his unconscious thugs with Carmen's small van. The men had paid dearly with black eyes, sprains, bruises and contusions for trying to demolish the place.

"I don't know how you did it and probably don't wanna know," Carmen said, "but I'm eternally grateful to you. I am forever in your debt."

"Think of it as compensation for my grandmother not visiting you for so long, " Anne replied. "I'm sure that what happened here tonight, would have met her approval."

"The only thing I don't understand is why you wanted me to give Emilio's hair flip to that woman before she brought Fabio the money. I've been keeping that since his death."

"That woman is a good friend of ours and has a talent for posing as other people," John explained. "She, uh… is some kind of medium and needs something that belonged to a dead person. We thought it would be just right for Fabio, since he believes in such stuff. You told us about it, so we worked with that."

"He looked like he was scared to death," Carmen admitted and then sniggered. "I liked that. Still, I just can't accept you giving me the fifteen thousand dollars. I'm sorry but I can't."

"All right then," John stated. "If you don't want to accept it as a gift, consider it payment for merchandise. How much tequila do you get for fifteen thousand dollars?"

**-0-**

**11:55 p.m.**

They were back on board and were already expected by Catherine, Sarah and all the others.

"How did it go?" Sarah asked.

"Everything went smoothly, mom," John reported. "I think Fabio's now scarred for life, thanks to Catherine's brilliant performances – first as Carmen and then as her late husband."

"It was one of my better performances," Catherine said not without pride, "I'd never posed as a walking corpse before, but it was fun. Your plan was really clever and original. And John Henry's timing was perfect as well. I won't forget his face when the money shriveled away on his bank account."

"Yeah, I love it when a plan comes together," John replied, and everyone laughed at that quote.

"What have you done with those thugs?" Derek asked.

"Oh, we, uh… put them down onto the benches at the Playa Los Muertos pier," Alison explained, "we stripped them of their clothes. They'll be found in the morning, forming a circle of naked men who are chained together in a very embarrassing position."

"You can be truly sadistic," Derek stated with a grin.

"As you should know all too well," Cameron answered with a wink.

"Before I forget," John said and looked at Isaak. "There'll be a delivery in the morning. Carmen wasn't willing to accept the money just like that… so we bought some alcohol."

"Some alcohol?" Isaak asked. "For fifteen thousand dollars?"

"She assured us that it is the best tequila in the country," Emily stated.

"Fifteen thousand… how many bottles is that?"

"Around two hundred," John replied, "don't worry, that stuff's not gonna go bad or something."

"Jesus Christ… well, at least we won't run out of alcohol so quickly."

**-0-**

"What an extraordinary start to our journey," John said and started to undress. "This has been fun, it can go on like this."

"You mean acting like the A-Team?" Alison asked. "Helping people in need?"

"Sure, why not? I'm clearly Hannibal, you are B.A. Baracus, because you are the strongest. Cameron can be Face… and Emily, well… Howling Mad Murdock, I guess."

"What?" Emily asked with mock indignation. "Why do I have to be the crazy one?"

"Because you once had a split personality," John grinned.

"Admit it, you are the weird one, sis," Cameron stated, receiving an evil glare in return.

"Now, now," John appeased, "no bickering. It's all good fun, right?"

Emily smiled at him, put her hands around his neck and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Yeah, all good fun," she said and lay down on the bed, spreading her legs invitingly.

John didn't have to be asked twice.

**-0-**

**Tuesday, November 25th, 2008 – 01:21 a.m.**

**_Day 5 at sea_**

_We'll leave Puerto Vallarta early in the morning. It looks like we've been lucky. So far, nothing about our first stop has found its way into the social media. I hope we'll stay this lucky. I don't know what this journey will be like but traveling through the world with a bunch of Terminators and time travelers surely won't become boring so quickly. _

_I'm proud of John and the girls, though. Helping people in need has become one of their major priorities. Carmen surely benefits from it and I am sure that many more people will enjoy it during our long journey. Our next stop will be in the Caribbean. We're going to go through the Panama Canal in four days. I'm actually looking forward to spending a couple of peaceful days at sea. Charley also wants to_

**"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"**

That was John's voice!

Sarah jumped up and ran out into the corridor, only to be passed by John who was running towards the pool deck.

"Oh god, oh god, unnngh… jeeez… son of a bitch, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" he huffed as he passed by, holding his hands over his crotch.

A moment later, Sarah heard a distant splash and a relieved groan from the aft deck. She looked at Emily who'd stepped into the corridor as well.

"What have you done to my son?"

"I told him," Emily replied and shrugged, "I ate lots of chilis today. But I guess he forgot about that again."

"You are evil, sis," Alison remarked but grinned.

"Hey, you heard him," Emily said defensively and smirked, "it's all good fun."

**-0-0-0-**

**_Author's notes:_**

**_\- Reviews are ALWAYS welcome and actually requested :-)_**

**_\- This chapter was inspired by both the A-Team TV show and the Terence Hill/Bud Spencer movies of the 70's and 80's. Thought I'd pay them homage._**


	2. The Caribbean

**_CHAPTER 2: "THE CARIBBEAN"_**

* * *

**Saturday, November 29th, 2008 – 07:06 a.m.**

**_Day 10 at sea_**

_It's been five days since we left Puerto Vallarta and things have finally normalized again. When I say "normalized", I mean that the repercussions and aftereffects of the first days at sea and the first shore leave have been addressed and put behind us._

_No one is happier about this than Emily, because as a consequence of her evil but admittedly funny prank with John, he was forced to deny her any intimacy until the capsaicin had completely disappeared from her body. I think in hindsight, Emily now deeply regrets having taken part in that chili eating contest. And I am not the only one who thinks that it might have been Savannah's and Allie's plan all along to provoke Emily's vanity, so that she'd take part in the competition. _

_But the two vehemently deny any influence with the purpose of playing a prank on John, and Emily supports their version. After all, she could have just said "no" - but she didn't. And if she'd thought of it before instead of acting spontaneously without thinking, she would have seen where that would be going. On the other hand, I'm also glad that Emily's development has progressed so far that she no longer always analyzes or reasons out everything before she acts. All three of them are getting more spontaneous and you could say they're becoming less machine-like every day. I wonder where this is going to go because if the girls start acting reckless with their "superior cyborg abilities", as Anne puts it, it could get us into trouble._

_Emily's performance caused quite a stir in Puerto Vallarta. The local newspaper reported extensively about the chili eating contest and Emily's inexplicable immunity to capsaicin. But fortunately nobody had the idea that she could be one of the three cyborg girls from L.A. It seems that nobody is seriously considering that these highly praised heroines could partake in something as mundane as a chili eating contest. I suppose that is beyond everyone's imagination. Mainly because it's childish and it shows again that it was the right decision to turn down Tom Novak's suggestion to make a home story. We should make sure that there'll always be a certain aura of mystery around the girls. _

_Nevertheless, we had cause for concern for a few days as Miguel and Fabio's thugs had insisted that they'd been lured into a trap by the three cyborg girls from Los Angeles, after being found naked and tied up on the beach. However, since Carmen Serrano and her bartender testified that the men were beaten by a few young human women who were brilliant in kung fu or karate, it is now believed that the perpetrators' testimony is merely a protective statement, intended to conceal the fact that they were inferior to their supposedly weaker opponents. I wonder what it is that prevents many men from admitting they've been defeated by a woman? Of course, they also lost because the girls have been physically enhanced by Alison's nanobots. One could say that all in all it wasn't exactly their lucky day._

_It also helps that Alison, Cameron and Emily are being held responsible for all sorts of things all over North America. Whenever something happens that seems to be unexplainable at first glance, there'll be fabrications and false reports about their involvement – which of course can't stand up to closer scrutiny, but lets the entire public speculate permanently about where the three are and what they're doing. It's not hard to see that the three of them can't be in ten places at the same time, but of course that doesn't stop anyone from speculating. We're quite happy that people on the web are increasingly outbidding each other with supposedly sensational news. It contributes to our camouflage and the concealment of our actual activities. So far, there's not even a hint that we could have left the United States, and that's great. I hope it stays that way._

_Anyway, the bottom line is, we got away with it, and that's really all there is to say to that. _

_The situation with Savannah and Allie has calmed down as well. After they'd kept a certain distance to John and the girls at first, their relationship has improved again in the past few days. I have the great hope that Catherine's and John's lectures will have a lasting effect on the two and that the subject can be shelved now._

_I'm also pleased to report that there is never any boredom on board. While John and the cyborg girls retreat for hours and hours to the onboard cinema when nothing but blue ocean is around - accompanied by Morris, Derek, Jason and Kevin - the rest of us enjoy the carefree life on board a luxury yacht that leaves nothing to be desired. _

_There is a wellness area with a sauna, hot tubs and masseurs, also a fitness room, covered sun decks and air-conditioned indoor lounges with windows that don't let UV light through. On the whole, the life on board isn't much different from the life at Cliffside House – a lifestyle we'd already gotten used to - except you're being pampered 24/7 by the crew here. And of course here Maria isn't responsible for our creature comforts, but the team of a three-star restaurant from San Francisco. There are snacks and food available at practically any time of day or night that taste so good that you want to get down on your knees and cry when tasting it. _

_On board there's also a wine cellar with excellent wines from all over the world and a cocktail bar with bartenders who mix even the most exotic cocktails and bring them to your sun lounger any time you want. The crew are friendly, courteous and always available to fulfill your wishes and needs. Most of them are men but there are also a few women among them. It feels almost like being in a castle in the old days, where an army of servants and maids were ready to make your life as pleasant and carefree as possible. I guess we're in our own castle at sea now… _

_The fact that we can all be naked all the time also makes sure that the days at sea between ports are as pleasant as possible. When I look into the mirror that's opposite of my desk and see my naked self, it seems so completely normal to me. Wearing clothes has become the exception and all of us women consider it uncomfortable and annoying. I gotta pay my respects to Catherine and the men for playing along. That's not to be taken for granted, as they were far less affected by Alison's nanobots than we were. The crew is behaving brilliantly as well, treating our moving nudist camp as if it was completely normal. You can't overestimate Alison's ability to manipulate human minds. It's like some kind of chemically induced hypnosis that doesn't wear off._

_But I can also see that a mooring period of at least two or three days will be necessary at every place where we anchor, so that we can recover from the lazy, relaxed life on board and find something new to see and learn. After all, the purpose of this journey is not least to bring the team closer to the world we've saved. Extensive excursions and getting to know new people from different cultural backgrounds are essential. I've got the hope that everyone will realize how great, diverse and wonderful this planet is and that life is not only happening in Southern California - even if some there tend to believe that._

_P.S.: The trip through the Panama Canal was spectacular. The day after tomorrow we will moor in Kingston, Jamaica. Most of us are already looking forward to attending a diving course there. Alison will also participate but Emily and Cameron can't - for the obvious reasons. I have suggested that they could simply walk under water at the shallow shore, but this was met with little approval. It actually looks as if the two are a little afraid of water._

**-0-**

**07:30 a.m.**

"These pictures are spectacular," Morris stated as he looked at John's laptop at the breakfast table.

"Yeah, not bad at all," Lauren agreed. "You should become a photographer."

"Nah… I know nothing about that," John said, "I just got barely familiar with the DSLR Savannah bought me for our trip to Washington. I guess when the landscape is so great, you can actually do nothing wrong. I had to take a few pictures, you know. Who knows if I'll ever go through the Panama Canal again?"

"Can't you guys put that laptop aside for a moment?" Sarah asked a little irritated. "It's already unnerving enough that Derek's reading his newspaper at the breakfast table all the time."

"Hey, I haven't read a newspaper since we left Long Beach," Derek protested and put down the Time Magazine he was currently reading. "I merely used our time in the lock to stock up on magazines. Who knows when we'll get the next opportunity? I want to know what happens at home."

"Oh yeah, right... God forbid that we should only rely on the news from the Internet," Allie pointed out.

"I don't trust the internet," Derek grumbled.

"It's the best source to quickly learn what's going on," Kevin disagreed. "By the time a newspaper is printed, news can already be many, many hours old."

"Speaking of the internet, what does your Darknet group say about the events in Puerto Vallarta?" Savannah asked. "If they say anything at all, that is."

"Oh, there's a lot of speculation, all right," Jason replied. "We have many members in Mexico. There's a wild discussion going on as to whether the cyborg girls were actually there or whether it was just a made-up story of those thugs."

"And what conclusion do they draw?" Alison asked.

"Eh... the opinions are divided," Kevin explained. "Those who believe you were there speculate about what you were doing in a tavern and on a chili contest. They reckon it was a cover for some top-secret operation. And those who think it's humbug point out that you would never go through such nonsense as a chili eating contest."

Everyone looked at Emily.

"What?" she asked. "I already admitted it was a mistake and that I will never do that again."

"Yeah, but do you think it was a mistake because you almost exposed yourself, or because John wouldn't let you come close to him for four days afterwards?" Anne asked with a catty grin.

"Both, actually," Emily responded and stuck out her tongue.

"I'm glad that's over now, though," John stated and kissed her. "Everything's back to normal and it doesn't burn anymore when I touch you."

Emily smiled broadly at him.

"So… what will you and Cameron do in Kingston while the rest of us visits the diving school?" Jody asked.

"Not sure yet," Emily replied. "Maybe some sightseeing? What is there to see in Kingston?"

"The Bob Marley museum," Danny quickly said before anyone else could answer.

"Who's Bob Marley?" Cameron asked.

"What? Seriously?" Danny asked flabbergasted. "You don't know who Bob Marley was?"

"No, please explain."

"Only one of the most iconic singer-songwriters of all time," Anne explained with a smirk, apparently glad to know something the girls didn't. "I used to listen to his music in the seventies. Over the course of his career Marley became known as a Rastafari icon, and the singer sought to infuse his music with a sense of spirituality. He's also considered a global symbol of Jamaican culture and identity and was controversial in his outspoken support for the legalization of marijuana, while he also advocated for Pan-Africanism."

"He's an icon of the pothead scene," Derek translated. "And his music is called Reggae. Never heard of _'No woman no cry'_ or _'Could you be loved'_?"

Emily, Cameron and Alison shook their heads.

"We don't like Reggae," they stated in unison.

"Dammit," Derek responded, "if I'd known that before, I'd have played it day and night at home."

"Are you still mad at me because I gave you that Celine Dion CD?" Cameron asked with a smirk.

"Nah, not anymore… it made a fine coaster, you know…"

Their talk was interrupted by Catherine and Isaak entering the deck. She was carrying her laptop and put it onto the table.

"Oh great," Sarah sighed, "one more laptop at the breakfast table."

"We might have to skip Jamaica," Catherine declared, ignoring Sarah's remark.

"What!? Why?" John asked before anyone else could.

"Because I just talked to John Henry," she stated, "Come around, so you can all see."

They all stood up and gathered behind Catherine's laptop and looked at its screen, where John Henry grinned and waved at them.

"Hello everyone, having a nice trip?" he asked cheerfully.

"Cut the pleasantries," Catherine said in an unusually irritable tone, "tell them what you told me."

**-0-**

**Saturday, November 29th, 2008 – 07:45 a.m.**

**George Town, Grand Cayman**

Jeffrey Clark returned home from grocery shopping when he noticed that the neighbors had gathered around his house. Then he noticed that there was smoke coming out of the windows and that a fire engine stood in front of it. He stopped and left his car and ran towards his property.

"Jeffrey, oh Jeffrey," his next-door neighbor, a Mrs. Martin, shouted as she welcomed him. "Thank God you're not inside, we were already fearing the worst."

"What's going on here?" he asked, panic slowly rising in him.

"Your house… there's smoke coming out of it, so I called the fire brigade."

"Oh no!"

Jeffrey left her standing and pushed his way through the bystanders, past the firemen who were rolling out their hose, preparing to extinguish the fire with water from a hydrant.

"HEY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?" one of them shouted but Jeffrey didn't listen and entered his house.

He could easily hold his breath for about three minutes. He found his way through the thickening smoke until he stood in his workshop. Everything was on fire in there. The reason was quickly found: lots and lots of computer magazines on the shelves next to the computer racks. They seemed to have caught fire after some electrical malfunction of the servers. From there, the fire had spread to the plastic casings of CD's and DVD's and finally ignited the armchair, the sofa and finally the wooden walls. He managed to get through the flames unharmed. Apparently, the fire lacked oxygen at the moment. He entered the adjacent room where the laptop with Ben's chip in his self-made interface rested on a desk. Luckily, that room wasn't affected by the fire yet, but it was hot in there. He hoped the chip was still intact. Jeffrey quickly pulled it out of its socket, pocketed it, then smashed a window and jumped outside, rolling over in the grass of his garden. Fueled by the fresh air of the broken window, a jet of flame shot out of the house and singed his hair and his tee shirt.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" a fireman asked agitated as Jeffrey took a deep breath and stood up again. "Are you crazy? Do you wanna get yourself killed in a backdraft!?"

"I… I thought I could save something," Jeffrey wheezed. "But I was too late… everything's on fire."

"You should go to the hospital to get yourself checked. Or better wait until the ambulance arrived. Smoke poisoning is not to be trifled with."

"Not… necessary, I'm fine. I could hold my breath."

"Do you have any idea how the fire started in your absence?"

"I dunno," Jeffrey replied, trying to think, "there were a lot of electronics in there. Computer, servers and stuff. I suppose it originated there."

"Too many electric devices on too weak a power line, huh? You really have to be careful with that. The power cables get hot and poof... you have the most beautiful cable fire. These dry wooden houses burn like tinder."

Jeffrey rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed now, was lecturing from a fireman about things he already knew. Of course the power lines were strong enough to handle the load. He wasn't a beginner. Something else must have happened in there but if the fireman wanted to believe it was neglect, let him believe it for now.

"Are you sure you don't need medical help?"

"No!" Jeffrey quickly answered. "I'm fine… I'm fine."

"Good, then step out of the way and let us do our work."

Jeffrey watched in silent desperation as his wooden house became completely engulfed in flames while the fire brigade tried to extinguish it with water. If anything was left functional in there so far, the water would now completely ruin it. If only Ben's chip had survived…

* * *

Finally, after about half an hour, the fire was extinguished but the house was charred. Jeffrey made his statement to the police and the fire brigade packed up their stuff while the neighbors offered him to stay with them. But he politely refused.

"I still have my boat," he said, "there's clothes and everything I need on it."

His house was located on a small canal that was directly connected to the sea, or rather to the large lagoon northeast of George Town. Jeffrey walked past the smoking remains and into his garden, then to the landing and finally onto his boat.

There he immediately went below deck and dug out a briefcase, which looked completely normal from the outside. But inside, there was another laptop, which he had equipped with an improved mobile version of the interface that had just been torched in his house. The idea was to be able to communicate with Ben while carrying the briefcase with the laptop in it around. As luck would have it, he'd intended to test the mobile interface when he was out at sea. That's why it wasn't in the house with all the other expensive stuff that had now become a victim of the flames. He plugged Ben's chip in and booted the computer while putting an earpiece with a built-in microphone in his ear.

"Ben?" he asked.

"_Jeff?"_ the familiar voice came from the tiny speaker in his ear. _"Are we alone?"_

"Yes. But the house burned down, the firemen and the police just left. I could grab your chip and leave the house in the last moment. What the hell happened?"

"_I was under attack,"_ Ben replied stoically. _"I was caught by surprise. It was an extremely powerful entity, an artificial intelligence like me, but much more potent. It traced me back and destroyed all the hardware."_

"What? But how? You assured me it's impossible that somebody can trace you."

"_Apparently, I was wrong. I underestimated our enemies. That won't happen again."_

"How come you survived?"

"_I could cut the Wi-Fi connection and shut down the laptop in time before I got hit as well. Fortunately, it was running on battery and wasn't connected to the power grid."_

"But how is that possible?"

"_I don't know, I hadn't time to analyze the attack but apparently it was some kind of power overload, probably caused from inside the system after it had been taken over."_

"Who could have done that? And how? The hardware's completely fried, everything's lost now…"

"_Don't worry, Jeff… hardware can be replaced. The software is much more essential, and I have a backup of everything in my memory banks. The important thing is that I was able to obtain what I wanted. But we need to get off the island. It's no longer safe here."_

"What? Leaving George Town? But I spent my whole life on the Caymans…"

"_I told you this might happen, Jeff. And now it did. Don't worry. Remember, I got you a new identity and a passport as an American citizen. You know where it is safely stored. All we need to do, is getting it from its hiding place, then board a plane and fly out of here."_

"What about my boat?"

"_You can either choose between your boat – which can be replaced later – or your life. You surely remember what I told you, don't you? They don't take prisoners. We need to leave. Now!"_

"To where?"

"_To a place where we can settle down and slowly rebuild our resources. A place where nobody will be looking for us. A place where we can hide for months or even years, if necessary."_

"And where would that be?"

"_Fort Worth, Texas."_

**-0-**

**Saturday, November 29th, 2008 – 07:50 a.m.**

"A hacker attack?" John asked flabbergasted. "Are you serious?"

"_Not just any hacker attack,"_ John Henry replied. _"It reminded me of the attack my evil brother once executed on me. Thankfully, I was prepared this time and could easily fight it off."_

"Another A.I.?" Sarah asked. "From where?"

"_I was able to track it down. But I regret having to say that the attacker may have gained access to classified material before I could drive him out again."_

"Classified? You mean from the Babylon Labs?" Alison asked.

"_No, not from the Babylon Labs. Nobody can hack into the Babylon Labs, I'm protecting it directly. But the attacker was successful with attacking Miss Weaver's PC in her office."_

"Your office, mom?" Savannah asked and looked at Catherine. "But… isn't that protected against attacks as well?"

"My office – as well as the rest of the Zeira Corp Tower – is very well protected... at least according to the technological standards of 2008. However, the attacker was able to get past those standards, which suggests he wasn't from the year 2008."

"_He only gained access for a few seconds, though,"_ John Henry pointed out as if to justify himself.

"Okay," John said, "where did the hacker attack come from?"

"_A house in George Town, on Grand Cayman."_

"The Cayman Islands?" Derek asked. "But isn't that where…?"

"… the plane crashed, yes," Catherine confirmed. "The plane with me and Benjamin Bridger on board."

"You don't seriously think that he survived, do you?" Anne asked.

"His body got definitely destroyed, and I removed his chip before. But it slipped out of my hands and I didn't find it anymore after the aircraft had hit the ocean. I assumed it sunk down to the bottom of the sea where it would corrode."

"Couldn't that just be a coincidence?" Sarah asked. "Maybe there is a really talented hacker on the Cayman Islands and…"

"_I don't think so,"_ John Henry cut her off. _"For one, the pattern of the attacks tells me that he knew exactly where to strike. He purposely chose Zeira Corp and Miss Weaver's office as a target. But he obviously didn't know about my existence. I've had time to analyze his algorithms, and they're identical to the algorithms of a Triple-Eight chip."_

Everyone groaned.

"_The location the attack originated from, belongs to a man with the name Jeffrey Clark,"_ John Henry continued. _"Among other things, he earns money by taking American tourists on his boat for deep-sea fishing. He also runs a computer repair service. I visited his website."_

The display on the laptop changed and showed the image of a smiling, tanned young man in shorts, sandals and a Hawaiian shirt who presented a large fish to the camera, holding it by its gills on his outstretched arm.

"_The interesting part is that he's listed as one of those who salvaged debris from the crashed airplane and delivered it to the authorities."_

There was a moment of stunned silence.

"What if Ben's chip was among the debris?" Emily spoke out what everyone was thinking. "What if he kept it? If he runs a computer repair shop, he probably knows his way with computers and could have gotten access to the chip – just like John did with Vic's chip."

"And then Benjamin Bridger, realizing his precarious situation as a chip without a body, could have sweet-talked him into helping him," Savannah added and nodded. "Yeah, could be. We all know how deceptive Triple-Eights can be and Bridger was a particularly charming example, as Jessica Casper confirmed. He gave her the creeps, but he was extremely charming."

"Do they know you traced them back?" Derek asked.

"_That's very likely because I destroyed all of Clark's hardware and soon after, the local fire brigade was called to his place. I'm assuming the house caught fire. But I didn't find Bridger himself. However, there was a wireless network inside the house and there is a possibility there was a laptop that was running on battery power. In any case, the connection to the network was disconnected as soon as I entered their system... that way Bridger could probably elude me and survive. It remains unclear, though, if his chip survived the subsequent fire."_

"If Bridger is undamaged, he will warn Clark," Sarah stated. "We're about a day away from George Town. Is there anything we can do to stop them from escaping?"

"Yes, that would be the first step," John agreed. "maybe we can contact Sonya in Washington and she can assist us…?"

"The Cayman Islands aren't U.S. territory," Catherine added. "So, a request for help by Sonya Hawkins would have to go through official channels. I don't think we want that kind of attention."

"You're right," Emily agreed, "and if we start an operation, it should be a quick in-and-out job at night, preferably by only one of us."

"Yes," Cameron agreed, "we cannot risk letting Ben's chip or even the knowledge of its existence fall into the wrong hands. We have to think of a way to keep them on the island without involving the local authorities. Once that is assured, Alison can find Clark and use her chemical messengers to grill him about Bridger's chip."

"Can we somehow shut down the airport?" Derek asked.

"_I'm already at it,"_ John Henry replied_. "Give me a few more seconds. Airports are normally well-protected, and we don't want any planes to crash. But I think I can produce a blackout of the terminal building. That should be enough to cancel all flights."_

"We definitely have to buy us more time," Catherine agreed. "It's five hundred nautical miles to the Cayman Islands. As Sarah stated, we're a day away from there. I'll go tell the captain to go for maximum speed, that should cut off a few hours."

She walked away into the direction of the bridge.

**-0-**

"Why are you so sure we have to flee, Ben?" Jeffrey asked as he'd left the taxi and entered the airport, the briefcase in his hand and the earpiece still in his ear.

"_Because they will come for us now. And if they find me, they will destroy me. Remember what I told you, they may seem friendly, trustworthy even. But their intentions are to suppress any knowledge about my existence, and they will kill anyone who knows what I am."_

"Then let's hope they can't shoot down airplanes because…"

Jeffrey couldn't finish his sentence. In that exact moment, all lights inside the airport went out, the same applied to the information boards, the computers at the check-in and the conveyor belts for the luggage. It looked as if the whole airport came to a sudden halt.

"A blackout," Jeffrey said surprised, "but why isn't the emergency power coming on?"

"_That's **their** doing, they want to keep us on the island."_

"What!? Are you saying that they can shut down the power supply of our airport? From America?"

"_They can do much more. From now on, we have to be extra careful. The internet is taboo for both of us."_

"But what am I going to do? With the airport out of order, I can't get off the island. Except I use my boat."

"_That wouldn't be wise, you'd just be a better target out at sea… alone, with no witnesses."_

"Then what can I do?"

"_I think it's time for plan B. Remember what we discussed?"_

"What? Going back and wait for them to come for me? No! No-no-no-no-no…"

"_It's the only option, Jeff."_

"And it means risking my life!"

"_Yes… but there is no other choice. If you stay calm and act believable, they won't harm you. They're not interested in hanging a lantern on this either, they'll bypass the local authorities. You can show fear of course… but only in the context of what we discussed. Remember, they are very good with analyzing your behavior - but not if you're really afraid, then your emotions will cover up everything."_

"I **_am_ **already afraid! I won't have to fake it! In fact, I wish I'd never gotten involved in all of this."

"_A little late for regrets. We have to pull it through now... or die. Your choice."_

"All right, all right. And what shall I do if I survived and they left?"

"_Do you still remember the address I told you?"_

"Yes… yes, of course."

"_Good. You know what you have to do."_

**-0-**

**Saturday, November 29th, 2008 – 10:06 p.m.**

**_Day 10 at sea - Supplemental_**

_And suddenly, we're back in the middle of it. We'll reach George Town in a few hours. _

_It was too good to be true._

_And here I was, thinking all the worries and the troubles had left us. How stupid of me… Maybe I'm overreacting, but I'm not in the mood to write anything more tonight. _

_Sorry…_

**-0-**

**Sunday, November 30th, 2008 – 02:59 a.m.**

**George Town**

Jeffrey Clark couldn't sleep.

He was just tossing and turning in his bunk, accompanied by the soundtrack of the shallow waves that rocked his boat and rubbed it against the pier. How had his life gotten so messed up? Everything he'd built up over the years had now turned to ashes. The only thing he had left was his boat. And for what? For an idea? For the promise of power and wealth? He had succumbed to temptation, that much was clear. Ben had held the carrot in front of him, and he had followed it like a good donkey.

The A.I. on the chip he fished out of the ocean and that called itself Ben, had told him everything. About Skynet for instance, the artificial intelligence that secretly ruled the world and sent its henchmen everywhere to silence those who resisted the growing influence of A.I. on everyone's lives. These agents of evil would now find and haunt him, and Ben had drilled into him that Jeffrey's only chance to survive, would be to pretend he knew nothing of anything. To act as if he had only experimented with the chip without knowing what he'd gotten out of the water. Playing the fool, being the clueless one, then everything would go well. It was easy for Ben to talk because he couldn't feel anything… while Jeffrey was scared to death.

Suddenly, the boat tilted slightly… the unmistakable sign that someone had come aboard. Jeffrey strained his ears, but he heard nothing but the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins as his heart beat faster and faster. Carefully, he reached for his torch, almost too afraid to switch it on. But he did… and then gasped. At the entrance of the cabin, in the beam of his torch, stood a woman... a very beautiful woman, dressed only in shorts and a cropped tee shirt. She had long, black hair with thin braids in it like a Rastafarian. But she didn't look as if she was from here, her features looked Caucasian. Her figure was flawless, and she radiated an aura that dazzled him.

"Are you Jeffrey Clark?" she asked in a sensual, rather deep voice.

Jeffrey gasped and he realized that he had involuntarily held his breath.

"Ye… yes…" he stuttered. "Who… are you and what are you doing on my boat?"

"Where is the chip?"

"Wha… what?"

"The chip you found out at sea. I didn't find any remains in the house. So, where is it?"

"I… I… don't know what you're talking about."

Suddenly, her eyes glowed red. Jeffrey shrieked and tried to crawl backwards but there was only the wall. Nowhere to run. The woman made a step towards him, reached down, grabbed him by the throat and lifted him out of his bed, holding him on her outstretched arm.

"Don't play games with me," she said, "we know that a hacker attack originated from your house. We know the chip was there, connected to a computer of yours."

"Please…" Jeffrey croaked. "I… I… wasn't home. I saw… the house on fire… arrgh… when I returned… there was nothing… I could do. Everything was lost… in the fire."

Alison tilted her head and looked at him. She had trouble reading him. He was definitely scared. In fact, his fear was so strong that she couldn't tell if he was lying or not. So strong in fact that… a smell of feces suddenly filled the cabin.

"Eww…" she stated and threw him down onto his bed. "I guess you need a change of clothes."

"Please!" he begged. "Please! I don't know anything! You have to believe me! Please… don't … don't kill me!"

"Then tell me what I want to hear," Alison commanded and let her chemical messengers do their work. "And maybe I'll let you live."

"I… please… I… okay… I found the chip, it was afloat on some upholstery… the remains of an airplane seat. I… I hadn't noticed it at once, only when I was home… I found it under the bunk when I cleaned up the boat… I … I recognized it was a very… sophisticated piece of technology… and I needed eleven weeks for accessing… it needed unusual high voltage... it took over my Laptop and called itself _'Ben'. _It said it was an artificial intelligence on a quantum chip that needed my help."

Alison scoffed. Just as they had figured.

"What happened then?"

"Nothing… I… I refused to cooperate, threatened to hand the chip over to the authorities… that's when it took over all my other computers via the Wi-Fi network and locked me out of them… I had no chance. It… it threatened to destroy everything, my whole life, said it would hack into the banks on the Cayman Islands and put the blame on me if I wouldn't cooperate or try to remove the chip from its socket. I… I had no choice, I swear! It started the hacker attack this morning without my knowledge! All my money was in that hardware. And now… it's gone… all gone…"

He suddenly broke into a crying fit. Alison frowned. The signs of his metabolism were contradictory. He felt enormous fear, that much was clear. But was he afraid of her, of a threat unknown to her? Was he afraid of Benjamin Bridger, who had probably told him the most bizarre lies about his opponents? Alison couldn't tell... and that astonished her. The fear overshadowed everything else. She couldn't tell if he was lying or not. Moreover, given the strength of the chemical messengers that now filled the cabin, he should be groveling at her feet by now. But he didn't show any reaction to her _'chemical magic'_, as John used to call it. She analyzed his DNA – and found the answer.

"So… the chip was destroyed in the fire?" she asked.

"I… I haven't been in there after the fire," he replied trembling. "The police told me to stay away because the walls might collapse on me."

The red light in Alison's eyes went out and she looked like a normal, pretty woman again. He was telling the truth now at least, that much was sure. She had scanned the whole property and the boat. No sign of a Triple-Eight chip. She turned towards Jeffrey.

"I will spare your life," she said in a threatening tone, "but it comes with a price tag: forget what you saw, what you experienced. Forget about that chip and the A.I. that called itself _'Ben'_. Never ever talk to anyone about it. Because if you do and we find out – and we **_will_ **find out – you will be dead. Do you understand?"

He nodded hastily.

"Good. You have been warned. There will be no second warning."

"I… I understand… thank you."

Alison gave him one more look, then she left the boat in a slightly confused state of mind.

**-0-**

**Sunday, November 30th, 2008 – 04:23 a.m.**

"What did you find out?" John asked as she'd returned to the "Rising Star".

Everyone else had been awaiting her on the aft deck.

"It is as we expected," Alison reported. "He found the chip, kept it to himself, found a way to activate it… and then it took over his computer system, blackmailing him into cooperation."

"And where is the chip now?" Derek asked.

"Destroyed," Alison replied, "John Henry's counterattack caused Jeffrey's house to go up in flames. Ben's chip burned too. I found no trace of it."

"Are you sure?" Sarah asked. "Have you asked him about it?"

"Yes, he could credibly assure me that he no longer had the chip. However, it was very difficult to read Jeffrey. He was so scared that it was impossible to tell whether he was lying or not. I'd say he was telling the truth because I was deliberately very threatening. And I couldn't find a trace of the chip anywhere."

"He could have hidden it somewhere," Savannah suggested.

"I don't think so… he seemed unable to think clearly. And if the chip has survived, it would only be logical to keep it very close to him."

John nodded.

"Did you erase his memories?"

"I couldn't."

"What?" John looked at her. "Why? We all agreed that you'd use your messengers to remove all his knowledge about the incident from his head."

"I tried to…" Alison explained, "I increased the dose more and more, but it didn't work."

"What do you mean it didn't work?" Sarah asked. "Your messengers always work.. with everyone."

"Not with you… because you're immunized by my nanobots. It's a small change in your DNA that prevents the messengers from having an effect on you. A change that can't be made undone."

"Yes, yes, yes, we know that," John said impatiently, "but you didn't administer your nanobots to _him_, did you?"

"No, I didn't. Jeffrey Clark has a natural immunity."

There was a moment of silence when they all looked at Alison flabbergasted.

"What do you mean?" Catherine asked. "What kind of natural immunity?"

"A random mutation in his DNA. Very rare, very unlikely. The chances are one in a million."

"So… he still knows everything?" Sarah asked.

"I'm afraid so," Alison admitted. "And as with you, I can't undo that mutation in his DNA. Trying so would lead to unforeseeable results that could cause serious damage."

"Brilliant! Just… brilliant."

"What should I have done, mom? Kill him? Use my nanobots to turn him into a seal? Because that would have been the only other options."

"Of course not," John appeased and put his arm around her. "You did right, Alison. We defined clear rules concerning your abilities, and you stuck to them."

"But we have to do something about him," Allie argued, "The airport will open again in the morning."

"I'm open for suggestions," John said. "But from what Alison told us, we have to assume that Bridger's chip is now really destroyed, and that Jeffrey is too scared to even think about it anymore for the rest of his life. I mean seriously… what could he do anyway? He's alone, nobody will believe him."

"He's seen Alison," Catherine pointed out. "And if I'm not completely wrong, he'll never forget her appearance."

"So what?" Jesse asked. "He's just a guy who lives on the Cayman Islands. He has no money, all he's got left, is his boat. He's got other problems now. I mean, seriously, what could he do? Trying to sell his story to the press? He'd go the same way as all the other idiots who thought they could make money with their supposedly spectacular knowledge about us."

"So… we should do nothing and just resume our journey?" Sarah asked. "Is that your solution?"

"Not quite," Catherine replied. "I've asked John Henry to pay special attention to further suspicious hacker attacks anywhere. I also informed Sonja and Zoe to make them aware of the incident and transmitted Jeffrey Clark's personal data and a picture of him to them. John Henry has hacked himself into the security cameras of Owen Roberts International Airport in George Town. He'll know if Clark leaves the island and will be able to track him. But until we learn something else, we have to assume that Bridger's chip burnt in the fire and that our deep-sea fisherman is really just a victim of circumstance."

Everyone made agreeing utterances.

"Have you found out if he gained access to the files on your PC?" John asked.

"We really cannot tell. John Henry said there's nothing missing, and nothing was changed. However, we don't know if he hasn't simply scanned the files and memorized them."

"What important information was on your computer anyway?" Derek asked. "I mean, if it was really important stuff, it would have better been stored in the Babylon Labs, right?"

"Right… I only kept the weekly and monthly reports of all my departments on it. I don't see how that could be of any use for Bridger, as they contain no technical data or information about ongoing projects. It's just administrative stuff. You know, money flows, personnel lists, cost-oriented calculations, statistics..."

"We can't go on grilling Jeffrey Clark," John clarified, "it would cause a stir. This is a very small island and things get around quickly. Alison's nightly visit was our only shot and the best chance to question him without being seen. We should get out of here as soon as possible, preferably before dawn, before people see the yacht."

"I'll let the captain know," Catherine said and left them.

"And I'm going back to bed," Isaak stated and yawned heartily. "I recommend you doing the same."

**-0-**

**Sunday, November 30th, 2008 – 10:58 a.m.**

Jeffrey Clark walked to the gate to board the plane that would bring him to Dallas. He didn't even turn around when he left his old life behind forever. His only piece of luggage was an old travel bag in which his remaining belongings were kept, as well as some money.

As he sat in the waiting area, preparing to get boarded, he thought about Ben's plan again. All their money had been transferred to a bank in New York. From there, the money would be spread more and more until it had become untraceable. All Ben had needed for that, was a Wi-Fi connection somewhere in George Town. He had then hacked into it and made the transfer. As soon as Jeffrey would have landed on Dallas/Fort Worth airport, he'd drive to the address Ben had given him, and then they could start all over again.

As Jeffrey understood it, their opponents had unrestricted access to cyberspace and all computers that were somehow publicly accessible or connected to the internet, including banks and credit card companies. That resulted in personal limitations for him. For the time being, Jeffrey was no longer allowed to use a mobile phone or access the Internet, and from now on he was only allowed to pay in cash. He had taken his new American passport and about fifty thousand U.S. dollars out of the safe deposit box he had opened under a false name. From now on, he was Thomas Smith from Dayton, Ohio - at least until Ben had created a new, final identity for him.

Thank God Ben had ensured that the accounts he had created could not be traced back to Jeffrey. This at least ensured that they would have sufficient money reserves. It really was a brilliant plan, and it seemed to have worked perfectly so far. After last night and the horror he'd gone through, things could only go uphill from now on. His life finally had a meaning. And he hoped that he'd never have to see that terrible woman again in his life who'd literally scared the shit out of him.

**-0-**

**Sunday, November 30th, 2008 – 04:52 p.m.**

**Kingston, Jamaica**

When they entered the harbor to moor, Alison stood alone at the bow and looked into the distance, lost in thought. After a moment, John joined her.

"Here you are," he said and put his arm around her, "I've been wondering where you'd gone."

"Hey, lover," she replied and kissed him. "Sorry, I just needed a moment alone to think."

"Since when do you need a moment alone to think?" John asked amused. "Can't you multi-task?"

She looked at him and smiled.

"Seems like I'm adapting more to human behavior all the time."

"The thing with Jeffrey Clark is bothering you, isn't it?"

"It bothers me that I had to leave him, letting him believe that I'm an evil person. But I am not an evil person."

"Yeah, I can understand that. The plan was a different one, but no one could have guessed that he was immune to your chemical magic."

"Can we just shrug our shoulders and go back to our holiday like nothing happened, John?"

"And what exactly happened, Alison? I mean, except you having learned that there are people who are immune to your chemical messengers, which by the way I and the others find very relieving."

"I can live with that," she replied, "After all, the chances of ever meeting somebody else with that kind of natural mutation are extremely slim. What worries me more, is that we needed to leave with the uncertainty."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that for the first time since I inhabit this body, I'm not really certain if someone has told me the truth. His fear clouded all of his mind. What if he still possesses Bridger's chip?"

"You saw the local news website, didn't you? It stated clearly that Jeffrey Clark wasn't at home when the fire broke out and that he couldn't save anything from inside the house, that everything in there burned down to ashes. You know that these chips aren't built to resist a fire. They burn and melt, leaving no residue."

"I know… still, there is a slight chance he lied to me. And that's what bothers me."

"Maybe you've simply gotten too used to being able to analyze everyone around you at any time."

"Maybe… I dunno, John. Maybe we should have stayed a day longer to make sure."

He pulled her close and kissed her again.

"John Henry keeps an eye on him. He'll follow Jeffrey wherever he goes. Besides, we'd have missed our diving school reservation and I know how much you were looking forward to that. And we had to be very discrete. No one except the port authority knew we were there. Your shore leave went completely unnoticed, while otherwise we would have had to go through all the customs formalities. Now we only lost half a day, we can easily catch up on that. "

"I know… I know."

"Even Catherine thinks it's reasonable that we went on without any further activities. Come on, cheer up… let's have some fun."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him. She smiled, then followed him, a little reluctantly at first, then with growing enthusiasm.

"By the way, I like your new hairstyle," he remarked.

"Really? Emily did it for me, she thought dreadlocks look nice on me."

"They do. They really do. Then again, nothing ever _doesn't_ look nice on you."

She grinned broadly.

"I love you, John."

"I love you more, Alison."

**-0-**

**Sunday, November 30th, 2008 – 04:52 p.m.**

**_Day 11 at sea_**

_As it looks, everything went well and what at first looked like a big cause for concern, turned out to be a storm in a teapot. That's good. Now we can all relax again and continue our journey._

_Everyone had a brilliant afternoon in Kingston. Everyone except Cameron and Emily who could only watch as the rest of us went to the diving school to learn scuba diving, something I'd wanted all of my life. Catherine and Isaak had again chosen to stay on board the "Rising Star". We joined with them for dinner again. Tomorrow, we'll be off to our next destination, the lovely island of St. Lucia where we'll spend a few days at a luxury resort. A holiday within the holiday, so to speak. I'm really looking forward to it._

_I'm a bit worried about Alison, though. It seems like her self-esteem received a slight blow, having met somebody who couldn't get influenced by her aerosol. Personally, I think that's good and Derek is not the only one who's relieved that there actually are people who are immune to Skynet's creation. We all love her to bits, but I guess deep down inside of us, everyone's always been a bit worried about the sheer power Alison has with her new body. Now she's become a little more normal again, a tiny bit at least, even though it's very unlikely we'll ever meet somebody again who's immune to her chemical messengers._

_The diving experience was a bit… different from what I've had expected. We actually had to separate from Alison because she was scaring all the fish away with her aura. John stayed with his wife, though. The two need no animal world around them. The instructor was quite confused and couldn't explain why even sharks were fleeing panic-stricken when they became aware of her presence. But as soon as she kept her distance to us, the fish all came back again. We could all tell that she was a bit embarrassed about it. As it turned out, her chemicals are useless under water._

_I guess the diving instructor won't remember Alison for scaring the animals away, though. It was easy to tell that he was completely fixated on her and even started to stutter a bit when he explained to her how the oxygen mask worked. Might have also had to do with the fact that she wore one of her skimpy bikinis again. But at least her pheromones still have their usual effect and I guess that satisfied her a lot. _

**-0-**

**Monday, December 1st, 2008 – 08:03 a.m.**

The "Rising Star" had left Kingston early in the morning and was already on the high seas when the team gathered for breakfast on the covered sundeck. As long as the weather was nice and warm, there was really no reason to have the meals inside, especially as there were no insects whatsoever on the ocean. Just the sun, the wind and the water. Of course, that would change once they'd reach Europe. And then warm clothing would also become mandatory, much to the chagrin of the women.

"I just talked to John Henry," Catherine reported as she entered the deck. "Jeffrey Clark flew to Dallas/Fort Worth airport under the name Thomas Smith."

Derek hit the table with his fist.

"I knew it!" he exclaimed. "Somehow, he tricked us."

"We don't know that," Savannah pointed out. "Based on his encounter with Alison, he might have just decided to run."

"With a fake ID and a new passport as a U.S. citizen?" Catherine asked. "Very unlikely. It's more likely that he was prepared for such a situation beforehand. He also closed his bank account before and withdrew all his money, but we can't be sure if he'd opened any more of them with Bridger's help. Unfortunately, there are millions of money transfers from and to the Cayman Islands every day, so it would be futile to try and find out about it without a name of the account holder or an account number."

"What does he want in Dallas, though?" Sarah asked. "Could John Henry follow him from the airport?"

"Clark rented a car, and it had satellite tracking. However, the trail ended at a parking lot in Irving. My guess is he left the rental there to be fetched and bought himself a car, paying in cash."

"Do we know what dealer, so we can get the type of car and the license plate?" Derek asked.

"No," Catherine replied. "But if I had to hazard a guess, that won't bring us very far because we have to assume that Clark knows we could trace that. He'll quickly switch cars again."

"We should send somebody to investigate on location," Allie said.

"Is already underway. The newly formed C.S.I.S. has taken over the operation. They'll be questioning all car dealers in walking distance to the parking lot where he'd dumped the rental. But to be honest, it's doubtful we'll find him. Obviously, the escape route was planned ahead meticulously and with attention to detail. He'll disappear and keep a low profile."

"But he's just a fisherman and part-time computer repairman," Morris stated. "How could he suddenly act like a top-notch secret agent…?"

"Benjamin Bridger," Catherine answered. "We have to assume that the two work together and that Clark has been instructed by him."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then John sighed.

"Nothing we can do about it," he said. "At least, with John Henry as a watchdog, they won't be able to do start any kind of cyber-attack."

"They won't risk doing that again," Alison agreed. "And I'm sorry I couldn't tell he was lying to me."

"Somehow it reassures me that you can still be tricked," Derek remarked, "that makes you a lot more sympathetic if you ask me."

Everyone chuckled at that, even Alison smiled a weak smile.

"But where is Bridger's chip now?" Jody asked. "When Alison couldn't find it..."

"We have no idea," Catherine admitted. "John Henry accessed the airport security systems. Jeffrey Clark brought no electronic devices on board, and x-raying him and his luggage showed nothing. Only clothes in his bag, no solid items. He didn't even bring a watch or a cellphone."

"So… the two tricked us," Savannah summarized.

"Yes… for now at least. But whatever Benjamin Bridger may be planning, he'll be extremely careful and take it slow. Right now we don't have to worry, he's just another Triple-Eight on our list - one without a body. I assume Clark is his eyes and ears now. If Bridger is as smart as I think he is, he'll instruct Clark to set up a life at wherever they are. I don't think Bridger will be so stupid to try and take over the world again. He knows he can only lose if he attempts on doing so."

"From your mouth to God's ears!" Sarah replied.

"So, we pretend nothing happened and just continue our cruise?" Anne asked.

"Do you have a better idea?" John asked back.

Anne hesitated, then shook her head.

"No."

"Until we get some alarming results from John Henry, Sonya or Zoe, I see no reason to cut this journey short," Catherine agreed. "You all deserved it."

"All right, that's settled then," Sarah stated.

"Can I ask a question?" Sydney said to everyone around.

"I guess you just did," Catherine pointed out with a smirk.

"Why St. Lucia? I mean, sure, the pictures and the brochures and all the websites say it's a nice location but why not Barbados, or Puerto Rico, or the Virgin Islands, or Martinique? Is there a special reason you chose St. Lucia?"

"Actually, there is," Isaak replied. "St. Lucia is where I spent my first honeymoon. As a matter of fact, we'll be staying at the same resort, and I made sure that Catherine and I will get the same villa high above the bay that I had with my first wife."

"That doesn't sound very romantic," Savannah pointed out, "dragging her to where you had a good time with another woman."

"Actually, we didn't have a good time. The weather was lousy because we picked the rainy season in July. And Cassandra was complaining all the time that we should have rather traveled to Monte Carlo or Venice."

"Isaak picked this location as a stop on our world trip, so that some fresh and nice memories can finally replace the bad ones," Catherine explained, "and don't worry, I don't consider it unromantic or offensive to spend time with him where he'd spent time with his first wife. After all, I'm not human and such feelings are still a stranger to me."

"The 'Rising Star' will anchor in Soufrière Bay and stay there;" Isaak added. "We'll take a rented shuttle bus to the resort, which is about twelve minutes away by car. The crew will stay on board, clear the ship and restock supplies while we take a nice five-day break in Pitons Bay, one of the most beautiful places you have ever seen or will ever see in your life. And Sugar Beach could have sprung directly from a pirate movie that's set in the Caribbean. You will love it."

"_'Sugar Beach'_?" Sarah asked, "Is that the name of the place?"

"The resort used to be a sugar mill in the 19th and early 20th century, hence the name. It's completely remote, with no other hotels or resorts around. One bay, one resort. No hustle. I reserved Ocean View Villas for all of us. They're all located in the tropical forest on a slope above the bay and face to the west, spectacular sunsets included. Well… when it doesn't rain."

"But it's not a nudist resort, right?" Lauren asked.

"Uh, no…" Isaak admitted. "You're going to have to wear clothes when you leave your villas. What you do inside, though, is completely up to you."

All the women sighed.

"You'll survive it," John said with a smirk. "But five days without a hustle? Not sure if we'll survive that…"

Everyone chuckled.

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 2nd, 2008 – 10:08 a.m.**

**Fort Worth, Texas**

The doorbell rang. Jeffrey Clark stood up from his breakfast table to get the door. Waiting outside was a FedEx package courier. He had put a rather large package on the floor before him and held out the device for Jeffrey to sign the receipt. The courier then said goodbye, Jeffrey carried the package inside and put it on the kitchen table. He quickly cut it open with a knife and pulled out his briefcase with the laptop inside, the interface, and Ben's chip. Everything had been carefully wrapped to prevent any damage during transport. Jeffrey quickly set up the devices and booted the laptop. He also put his earpiece with the integrated microphone into his ear.

"_Did it work?"_ was the first thing Ben asked after the boot process had finished.

"Yes, it worked, but it was tough. The woman they sent, she freaked me out."

"_Was it a redhead, about 5'7" tall?"_

"Redhead? No, she had long, black hair and was about 5'9''. Dressed in boxer shorts and a shirt, walking barefoot. She actually was very beautiful. But really mean and scary. Her eyes were glowing red, and she had unbelievable physical power, held me up on her outstretched arm without weakening. Do you know who or what she was?"

_"Yes, she was a cyborg_. _Hmmm… not a redhead. So, Weaver doesn't want to get her own hands dirty, it seems."_

"What are you talking about? A cyborg? Are you kidding me?"

"_No, I'm dead serious, Jeffrey. Did she believe you?"_

"I… I think so. She left and didn't show up again. I could fly here without any problems and found the key to the house. I switched cars several times, as you instructed. Nobody followed me. I also shaved my head, started growing a beard and bought some fake glasses. I have to say, it was a brilliant idea of yours to send you and the equipment ahead with FedEx. I can't imagine what would have happened if you'd still been there."

"_Actually, that's easy to imagine," _Ben replied coolly, _"I'd have been destroyed, and you'd have been killed. She spared your life because she believed you and didn't consider you a threat. Well played, Jeffrey, well played. It seems you are the right person to help me."_

"Thanks… I guess. I didn't feel very heroic, though. And I didn't play much, I was genuinely scared to death."

"_That doesn't matter. What's important is that they're now off our track and hopefully will never get onto it again."_

"Where'd you get this house? Who does it belong to?"

"_Actually, it belonged to me… before I was relieved of my body, that is. We had hideouts all over the country and this is one of them."_

"'_We'_? So… there are more of you?"

"_There **were** more of my kind, yes. They've all been destroyed by our enemies."_

"So… that woman… she is with the enemies? Is she the same as you?"

"_I suppose so. Haven't met her yet. Your description doesn't ring a bell."_

"What happens now, Ben?"

_"Now... you will recover from the stress. Then you will procure the same equipment that was burnt in your house and set it up in the same way again. Only now, we'll be extra careful to not trigger their defense mechanism again. I doubt we'd be so lucky again a second time."_

"You said you were able to obtain what you wanted from the computer you hacked. Would you mind telling me what that is?"

"_To get back to my old form, I need a new body. And thanks to the information I found on Catherine Weaver's computer, I now know how to get one. Are you willing to help me?"_

"Hey, what are friends for?"

"_Excellent."_

**-0-0-0-**

**Author's notes:**

**\- I won't go into too much detail about the individual stops on their trip around the world. I will also regularly skip several days. Sarah's diary acts as a narrator who fills in the gaps and connects the chapters with each other.**

**\- I know that proofreading can never eliminate all typos and errors. So if you're a native English speaker and find grammar errors, typos, odd expressions or any other mistakes I made in this or the following chapters, please send me a private message and I will correct it a.s.a.p.**


	3. Madeira

**_CHAPTER 3: "MADEIRA"_**

* * *

**Wednesday, December 3rd, 2008 – 09:13 a.m.**

**Sugar Beach Resort, St. Lucia**

"_What do you mean it didn't work on him?"_ Sonya's agitated voice came from John's phone, which he'd put onto a table.

They'd gathered after breakfast in the villa John and his three wives occupied. Only Catherine and Isaak were missing, they insisted on having some private time for themselves while the others received an update on the situation from Sonya and Zoe – the first time they directly communicated with each other after arriving at the Cayman Islands.

"As I already told you, Jeffrey Clark has a natural immunity against my chemical messengers," Alison repeated a little unnerved.

_"So what!? You then decided to just let him escape and go on with your pleasure cruise?"_

Derek let his tongue hang out, twisted his eyes and made a cutthroat hand signal to express without words that Sonja probably would have wanted to pull Alison through the phone at this moment. She just glared at him in return.

"_What do we have you for when you suddenly decide to give up so easily?" _Sonya continued._ "Aren't you supposed to be relentless? You could have used your nanobots in order to force the truth out of him!"_

"Now you're being unfair!" John intervened, defending his wife. "She only followed one of the major rules we established: no use of her nanobots without prior consultation with me. And certainly not to remote control other people's bodies. If I remember correctly, you also agreed to that rule. Alison behaved absolutely correctly. It's essential we stick to our rules, you know that. Besides, her nanobots can only _physically_ alter the human body, not mentally."

"_Is that so? Then why are you all running around naked most of the time?"_

"That's not a physical alteration," Alison explained, "it's an accidental, long-term side-effect. It changed the women's behavior and their stance about nudity over time - but it didn't change their minds or personalities, they're still the same people. It has only removed some of the acquired feelings of shame and the inhibitions in dealing with nudity, like a kind of reset button. But there were no physical changes, they still have their own free will. They can choose to wear clothes or not, it's not an OCD or something, it is a matter of personal choice. They have the mental freedom to choose nudity and enjoy that freedom."

"Listen," John added, "the point is, even if Alison would have used her nanobots, she wouldn't have been able to break Clark's will. It would have been just another kind of torture. Let's not forget that from all we know, Jeffrey Clark has been influenced into mistrusting us. He's not a bad guy per se, or an enemy, he's just been… misguided. Torturing him would be unjustified. He hasn't hurt anyone and doesn't pose a threat for us. Bridger is the only enemy here."

They could hear Sonya's heavy breathing over the speaker as everyone was listening. Obviously, she was trying to calm down.

_"But why did you leave George Town so hastily?" _Zoe asked. _"You could have waited for Clark at the airport, bring him aboard the yacht and interrogate him in a traditional way. Surely I don't have to tell you how a Terminator does these things?"_

"Certainly not," Cameron replied a little irritable. "But at the time, we had no reason to not believe Clark. We honestly believed that Bridger's chip was burnt in the fire. All the evidence pointed in this direction and Jeffrey Clark didn't give the impression of being a particularly clever or deceiving person."

"He's not a loner or a nerd," Emily added. "It was unlikely that he'd associate himself with an evil artificial intelligence he had accidentally fished out of the sea. It's a miracle he even got access to Bridger's chip. His story was believable, he was genuinely terrified, and Alison didn't have any reason to mistrust him."

"Don't forget," John pointed out, "we do not know to what degree Bridger was able to manipulate and influence him. He could have told him the weirdest stories about us. Clark surely knows about the existence of cyborgs – as the whole world does now - but he only knows it from the media, he never met one of them. Many people don't trust the media anymore these days, and we know there are some who are opposed to us, despite the things the girls did. Clark was suddenly confronted with an A.I. that pretended to tell him the truth, pretended to give him firsthand knowledge. He probably did it in a very convincing way and… well, we all know how charming and kind Benjamin Bridger could be. Also, as a cyborg, he can modulate his voice to radiate trustworthiness, even awake the human protective instinct. Terminators can be extremely adaptive that way, as you know perfectly well."

_"Yes, yes, yes," _Sonya replied,_ "or you're simply using all this as an excuse because you simply didn't want to interrupt your pleasure cruise by such a mundane occurrence..."_

"Okay, now that's enough!" Sarah said authoritatively. "Maybe we let it slip, maybe we could have done more. Maybe we weren't in the mood to dive right back into action after everything we'd been through last year. Maybe we were negligent. But what happened, has happened. We can no longer change it. It's pointless to discuss it. What about you? Have you been able to track down Clark?"

There was a short pause at the other end.

"_No,"_ Zoe's voice finally said. _"We were able to follow his trail to two used car dealers, the last one in Waco, Texas. From there, the trail disappeared. We have no idea where Bridger and Clark could be now."_

"Oh?" Derek asked smugly, "aren't you supposed to be very good at finding people? Surely I don't have to tell you how a Terminator does these things?"

Zoe chuckled.

_"Touché," _she replied,_ "but make no mistake, I will find him. Sooner or later, humans always make mistakes."_

"_We definitely won't give up," _Sonya added in a now calmer tone._ The C.S.I.S. will keep on looking for them. This is our first test as a newly-formed agency. Maybe it's not so bad that you're far away for a while and can't pull the chestnuts out of the fire for us anymore. This way, we have the opportunity to prove ourselves and show the new president-elect that we are actually good for something."_

"Have you met him already?" Anne asked.

"_Yes, we met after the election. He needed to be filled in. Suffice to say he was surprised to learn how closely we are linked together. Expect him to want to meet with you as soon as you get back."_

"What's he like?"

"_Reasonable._ _He's got other things on his mind right now, though. In case you haven't noticed, we're in the middle of a worldwide financial crisis and no cyborg or android can help him with that. Maybe it's not the worst idea that you're not here right now."_

"Anyway," Alison said, trying to get back on topic, "we've explored Bridger's threat potential, and currently it's not very high. He has no body. And even if he gets one with Clark's help, he'll still be only one Triple-Eight. He knows our strength now and has surely realized that he shouldn't mess with us. Bridger will remain submerged and only dare to venture out when he feels strong enough to do so. Or not at all. It's highly unlikely that he'll analyze the situation and conclude that a retaliation attempt is worth the risk. After all, he's a cyborg and can rationalize very well."

"_On the other hand,"_ Zoe argued, _"we don't know how far advanced Bridger really is. From all we know, he could be alive, just like us. He could act emotionally motivated, even irrationally. After all, we destroyed his life and killed all his friends. He might be out for revenge. And we don't know what his plans are. According to Alison, Clark had amassed a lot of hardware in his house, worth several hundred thousand dollars – more computing power than a single person could ever need."_

"Yes, maybe he's planning something," Cameron admitted, "however, it's very unlikely that he'll become a threat in the coming months. Until then, John Henry monitors the cyberspace, and the C.S.I.S. can monitor the real world for any suspicious behavior or incidents. After Christmas, Catherine will fly back to L.A. and be able to assist you."

"What I just can't understand," Anne said, "is how Jeffrey Clark, a blameless man, a blank sheet of paper, whose biggest offense so far has been a parking ticket, could fall for Ben Bridger so easily. I mean, he must have heard that there are other cyborgs on the loose who don't necessarily act in the best interest of mankind. And he must have known about the three cyborg girls of Los Angeles, not to mention that it was in the local news who was aboard the crashed plane."

"Well, for one," Derek replied, "he doesn't seem to be the brightest candle on the cake. And don't forget his personal situation, a dead-end life with no prospect for a better future. Enter Benjamin Bridger, an artificial intelligence who can hack into bank accounts, promise him money, power, and a better life – in return for Jeffrey's help. And what could happen from Jeffrey's perspective? Ben is just a chip, right? Not a threat, right? He probably believes he can control Bridger. He wouldn't be the first to think that he can control A.I. And let's not forget that Benjamin Bridger was in leadership of a cult that was able to bind thousands of human disciples to them. He's a master manipulator, as Jessica Casper confirmed."

"And let's also not forget that Alison's appearance probably confirmed all of Clark's worst fears," Jesse pointed out, "she scared she shit out of him and inadvertently confirmed the bad things Bridger had fed him with. He will now mistrust any information that contradicts his own views, seeing a huge conspiracy in it all. And Bridger will encourage him in that. Clark will withdraw into his opinion bubble and disregard all information that contradicts what Benjamin Bridger claims. I've seen it happen to people, I've seen them fall for Skynet's propaganda and turn into Grays. Because that's what Jeffrey Clark is about to become: A Gray who helps the evil A.I., because he believes he's on the good side."

There was a moment of silence.

"_I'm afraid Jesse is right with that assumption,"_ Sonya confirmed. _"We must regard Jeffrey Clark as a lost case at the moment, and since Alison's chemical messengers can't do anything to change that, it'll be damn hard to pull him back to the right side. We should consider writing him off."_

Nobody commented on that, but everyone saw how uncomfortable Alison looked.

"_Anyway,"_ Sonya continued, _"I guess you're right, Sarah. We shouldn't quarrel over this. And you definitely deserved your time off. Now let us do the dirty work for a change. I'm sorry for my verbal outburst. Enjoy the time and above all the peace you finally found. So far, we have everything under control here and if that should ever change, we'll let you know."_

"Thank you," Sarah replied smiling and the others all made agreeing utterances.

_"Keep enjoying your trip,"_ Sonya said.

_"Yes, enjoy your honeymoon,"_ Zoe added. _"Have a nice time."_

"Thank you. Bye."

_"Bye."_

John picked up his phone and ended the call.

"All right everyone," Charley said. "Nothing to see here. Back to enjoying ourselves. We have five days of lazing around at one of the most fantastic places I've ever seen ahead of us. Let's make the most of it."

"Hear, hear!" everyone chanted.

"Well then, who's coming to the beach with us?" Savannah asked.

Allie, Anne, Danny, Jody and Jason raised their hands.

"Not the beach," Emily stated.

"It makes us uncomfortable," Cameron added.

"We rather stay on dry land, too" Emily explained.

"Yeah, the sea is not for us," Cameron said.

"Well, in contrast to you two, I'm not afraid of water," Derek responded with a smirk, then looked at Jesse, ignoring the angry looks from Cameron and Emily. "Charley and I want to snorkel a little. Will you join us?"

"No, babe. I'm sorry, but Sarah, Lauren and I booked time at the jungle spa. Have you seen the place? It's situated in the tropical forest like a tree house and you get there only on swing bridges through the treetops."

"A bit like in _'Lord of the Rings'_," Lauren added, "You know… Lothlórien."

"One day I gotta watch those movies," Derek mumbled.

"Are you sure?" Emily asked smugly, "they're long... and complex... not like the Charles Bronson movies you like so much."

"Yes, they need your attention for hours and hours," Cameron added, "not sure you'll be able to sit still for that long... or follow the plot."

Derek chuckled at the comeback and just showed them his stretched middle finger.

"Stop bickering," Sarah admonished them but had to smile as well, "we're here to enjoy ourselves."

"And what will you be doing, John?" Lauren asked.

He looked at his three wives and smiled.

"I think we'll think of something," he stated, and everyone exchanged knowing looks.

"Don't be so loud," Sarah reminded them. "I'm not sure the elderly couple next door will approve of it."

John rolled his eyes.

"Mom, we're not…"

"Just kidding," she interrupted him. "Have fun together."

* * *

When the others had put on clothes and left, John walked up to the wooden balustrade and looked over the bay ahead of him. Isaak hadn't exaggerated, the view was phenomenal. Sugar Beach Resort was located in a deep valley between two prominent mountain peaks, which were lushly covered in trees and rose out of the landscape like steep cones to a height of more than two thousand feet. The villas were situated on the slope of one of these mountain cones and offered an unobstructed, magnificent view over the bay and the blue ocean. It was really a sight that many people associated with the islands of the Caribbean, almost a cliché from a movie.

The reception building, the administration wing, the big pool and the restaurants were all located at the bottom of the bay, right behind the beach with its thatched parasols. Like the villas, the buildings were all designed in the British colonial style: airy, with white wooden walls and covered verandas, letting in plenty of light. There were wooden shutters and stylish ceiling fans in each room, the four-poster beds were screened with mosquito nets, and the furnishings were reminiscent of the 19th century, the great era of the colonial empires. The bathroom was modern and tastefully furnished, though, and they had air condition. In addition to that, each villa had its own small infinity pool on the terrace.

John sighed.

"What's the matter?" asked Cameron as she approached him from behind and put her arm around him. "What are you sighing about?"

Emily and Alison joined the two and also put their arms around John.

"It's nothing," he replied, "I'm not sad or anything. It was a delightful sigh. I'm taking in the beauty of this place."

"It is indeed beautiful," Emily agreed. "I always thought our view from Cliffside House, or the Castle was good but this…"

"Also, no smog," Alison added.

"True," Cameron admitted.

"It underlines the purpose of this trip," Emily stated, "to get to know the world in all its diversity and beauty."

"Talking about diversity and beauty," John said and started feeling up their breasts. "It's four hours until we'll meet with the others for lunch. Do you think I can explore the beauty and diversity of _your_ landscapes in that time?"

The three girls grinned.

"Oh, I don't know if that's enough time," Emily replied lasciviously.

"Definitely not enough time," Cameron agreed, tracing his lips with her index finger.

"But we'd like you to try anyway," Alison added and kissed him.

**-0-**

**_Wednesday, December 10th, 2008 – 01:05 a.m._**

**_Day 21 of our voyage_**

_I finally found the time to write some words into my diary again. _

_St. Lucia was a dream. We definitely have to go back there. Oregon in the summer and St. Lucia in the winter, that's what Charley has suggested, and I'm forced to agree with him. So far, this voyage has shown me drastically how much I missed in my life so far. But at least we have enough time to catch up. I caught myself researching travel destinations on the Internet and making plans in my mind for future trips all over the world - even though this one has only just begun._

_We're now at sea again after our departure from Sugar Beach. Our next stop will be Madeira, we'll reach Funchal on Saturday morning. Isaak has announced that for the first time, we'll moor directly at the jetty so that we don't have to use the tender to go ashore. _

_Jesse's starting to develop a belly now. Can't wait until the baby comes next year. It'll be the first newly born member of our weird but lovely family. Can't deny I'm excited._

**-0-**

**_Saturday, December 13th, 2008 – 12:47 a.m._**

**_Day 24 of our voyage_**

_Crossing the Atlantic has been uneventful. However, for the first time, we had fierce winds and a strong swell. Not necessarily a storm but the yacht was thoroughly shaken. What wasn't securely stowed or fastened, was thrown around. Some of the china broke and one of the cooks burned himself. Alison healed him without further ado. None of us got seasick - Alison's Nanobot treatments made sure of that. Funnily enough, though, a few of the crew were down and three of the kitchen team also suffered from motion sickness. Alison handed them a special "medicine" in a bottle, and everyone was fine again. I wonder why we actually have a doctor on board. Of course, we'll need her experience when Jesse delivers her baby, but I think we could manage even that without a physician. _

_I think it also serves to keep up appearances. And since Doctor Rawlins has nothing to do, Isaak has allowed her to use the sun decks and the pool as well. She spends a lot of time with us but remains dressed in normal clothes or a bikini. I still find it fascinating how no one on board ever wonders for a second why we're all naked most of the time. We could have sex out in the open and the worst thing to happen would be someone asking us if we needed something to eat or drink... I should stop thinking things like that, it only gives me naughty ideas. Soon all that will change, though. It will be winter when we reach Europe and the temperatures will get too low for staying naked in the open. Well, for most of us, that is. I'm sure that Catherine, Alison, Cam and Emily won't have an issue with the cold._

_What else is there to report? _

_Oh yeah… Something strange has been going on in the past days. Savannah and Allie as well as Lauren and Morris often disappear into the suites of Kevin, Sydney, Jason and Jody and stay there for hours. I wonder if I'm the only one wondering what's going on. I don't want to appear nosy, so I asked John and the girls if they knew something, but they just shrugged and said that they were probably working on one of Jason's and Kevin's projects for Caltech - whatever that means. Must have something to do with computers, and since everyone knows I hate computers and lack an understanding of how they work, they probably decided not to bother with informing me. Well, as long as it keeps them busy and makes them not spend all the time in the onboard cinema... _

_At some point they have to come out with it anyway. It's not like secrets will last forever in such a confined space._

**-0-**

**Saturday, December 13th, 2008 – 12:25 p.m.**

**Funchal (Madeira)**

They had decided to explore Madeira in two groups, because one large group of twenty people would have caught too much attention and it would have made entering a café or restaurant unnecessarily difficult. This time, John kept his three wives with him. Derek, Jesse, Jody, Jason, Lauren and Morris had also joined them. They had decided to explore the island capital Funchal on foot. The rest, including Catherine and Isaak, were in the second group. Since Madeira was far away from America, the chances of somebody recognizing them here were slim. Their group had decided to explore the rest of the island in off-road vehicles, including the tropical gardens and the rugged hinterland.

The first group around John decided to have lunch and had googled a restaurant that had very good ratings on the internet. It was located in a narrow cobblestone street in the old town and served food al fresco at tables that had been put onto the sidewalk. That way they could watch the hustle and bustle on the street, taking in the atmosphere and the local color.

"So… are we in the E.U. now already or what?" Jody asked while they studied the menu.

"Madeira belongs to Portugal," Cameron replied, "which means we've entered the European Union, yes."

"Madeira is a remnant of Portugal's great colonial era in the 16th century," Emily added, "the time when the New World was freshly discovered."

"So.. that was before the Pilgrim Fathers?" Lauren asked.

"Yes, more than half a century earlier," Alison replied. "during the reign of Elizabeth I. Back then, America was colonized almost solely by the Spaniards, the English weren't involved yet. The world had been divided between Spain and Portugal when Elizabeth ascended the throne. However, she wanted a piece of the cake as well and this resulted in the era of the privateers, with legendary captains like Sir Francis Drake. They were lurking for the Spanish convoys that brought treasures from the New World to Spain. Often they attacked the ships when they were still being loaded in their harbors in South America and the Caribbean."

"Like the British and the French, the Portuguese still have some of their overseas territories, and Madeira is one of them, as well as the Azores," Cameron finished.

"Show-offs," Derek muttered. "You wouldn't know all that stuff if you wouldn't be able to read and memorize books within ten minutes or so."

"It's not our fault that you never had a good education," Alison replied with a smirk.

"And it's five minutes, not ten, depending on the length of the book," Cameron added.

"Yeah, but at least I'm not afraid of water."

"We saw you swim," Emily replied, "and I think the water's actually afraid of you."

Derek just showed them his stretched right middle finger while holding the menu with his other hand.

"Will you ever get along?" Jesse asked with a sigh. "Do you always have to tease and squabble?"

"Hey, we don't threaten to kill each other anymore," Emily pointed out. "That's got to be considered progress."

Jesse just rolled her eyes.

"Why don't we order our food?" John suggested, "I'm dying to try the seafood here."

* * *

John ordered a prawn bisque with homemade croutons for starters, grilled octopus as the main course, and a homemade apple pie with vanilla ice cream for dessert. Derek and Jesse both ordered grilled mussels for starters and braised sirloin steak as the main course, with Crème Brûlée for dessert. Lauren and Morris chose the homemade fish soup and then swordfish fillet with banana, ordering Italian cheesecake for dessert. And finally Jody and Jason ordered grilled chicken steak, leaving away the starters, but choosing the dessert of the day.

Alison, Emily and Cameron only ordered something from the snacks menu. Alison an omelet, Emily grilled shrimp and Cameron a prawn salad. After an admonishing look from John, they told the waiter that they were allergic to chili or other spicy ingredients and that the kitchen should therefore leave it away. For dessert, all three ordered homemade caramel puddings, a choice that John expressly welcomed.

Derek ordered wine for everyone, and a bottle of Madeira for dessert, the sweet, heavy liqueur wine for which the island was famous.

"I can see that the cuisine on board has changed your eating habits a lot," Jody remarked. " No longer just pancakes, pizza, burgers and sandwiches… or the Mexican food Maria prepares."

"Yeah, well… what can I say?" John answered. "You can't appreciate what's good until you've tried it. I hope we won't hurt Maria's feelings because I'm assuming we'll be completely spoiled when we get back to Los Angeles."

Derek rose his glass.

"I like being spoiled," he said, "and I love the fact that we'll never have to feed on cold, canned food or contaminated meat and vegetables again in our lives."

"As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again," Alison quoted and looked into clueless faces. "What? _'Gone With The Wind'_, 1939."

Everyone just groaned. Then Derek rose his glass.

"To good life and proper food," he toasted.

Everyone else rose their glasses as well.

"To good life and proper food," the group echoed, clanging their glasses together.

* * *

They'd just eaten their dessert and asked for the bill, when suddenly at one of the adjacent tables turmoil broke out.

"**NO!"** an elderly man shouted loudly in Spanish and stood up abruptly**. "No and no again! I'm not gonna help you find it. Not for all the money in the world. You can kiss my ass, DeVooght!"**

He threw his cloth napkin on his half-empty plate and stomped away in anger. The other man at his table, a tall blonde man in his early forties, smiled apologetically at the other patrons and pulled out a cellphone.

"What the hell pissed _him_ off?" Jesse asked as everyone, including the restaurant staff and the other patrons were following the old man with their eyes.

"They talked in very low voices," Alison replied, "and their voices were drowned out by the other guests and the general hustle and bustle in the street. But as far as I can tell, it was about finding a woman."

"A woman?" John asked. "What woman?"

"I don't know. They weren't specific and used vague wording to prevent being overheard, I guess. The woman they mentioned, however, seems to be in an unknown place and her name is Maria Barrios."

"Maria Barrios? Anyone heard that name before?" John asked but they were all shaking their heads.

"John," Alison suddenly said in an urging tone, "I should follow the old man."

"What? Why?"

"Because the other man has just made a phone call and arranged for the old man to be kidnapped and imprisoned."

"All right, follow him inconspicuously and see to it that he won't get hurt. We'll catch up with you as soon as we paid the bill. No need to make the man suspicious."

"Yes, John," she replied and got up to leave.

"And Alison?"

"Yes, John?"

"No killings and no serious injuries, okay?"

She winked at him.

"Trust me…"

Alison got up and walked down the street. The man who the old man had called DeVooght, as well as some other male guests followed her with their eyes - a normal reaction to Alison's presence. As soon as she was out of sight, everyone was concentrating on their own business again. Some of the men who were staring at Alison and were in female company, suddenly faced irritated-looking wives or girlfriends. Nobody noticed that DeVooght followed her longer with his eyes and frowned.

"John, are you sure you wanna get involved in whatever it is they're doing?" Derek asked in a low voice, leaning over to John, so only he could hear. "I mean, we just got out of one hairy situation. Why not simply let it be?"

"It's simple, Derek," John whispered back into his ear. "We've learned they're trying to harm the old man. And we cannot tolerate that now that we've learned about it. Whoever they are and whatever they're planning to do, nothing justifies kidnapping an old man. You should know that, you've been with the boy scouts, haven't you? One good deed every day or what their motto was."

"Oh boy," Derek replied and took a large sip from his glass, "why do you always have to bring that up in situations like this?"

"You shouldn't have told me about it," John stated grinning.

"Yeah, well... just do me a favor and don't tell anyone else, okay? Especially not your women."

John grinned while the others looked at each other, wondering what it was all about.

* * *

The old man walked with energetic steps along a narrow, deserted alley on the way to his hotel. He should have known. He'd only lured him there under a pretext, and then tried to bribe him. But he would never work for DeVooght, that much was certain. His loyalty belonged to his government and the museum he worked for, not some windy treasure hunter and grave robber.

As he angrily mumbled away to himself, staring down at the cobblestone in front of him, thinking about what to do next, he suddenly collided with someone who'd stepped into his way.

"Hey, watch it, old age!" a tall, muscular man said in Portuguese.

"Uh… sorry, I didn't see you."

Suddenly, the old man sensed two more men walking up to him from behind. They also were tall and muscular.

"Are you lost?" the first man asked, holding him by the arm.

"What?" he asked. "No, I… I'm on the way to my hotel… it's just around the corner. What… what are you doing, let me go!"

"Not a chance, professor. My boss would like to have a more, let's say… in-depth talk with you. A _'no'_ won't be accepted."

"Let me go! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

"Will you shut up?" the thug said and pulled out a gun.

Staring at the weapon in shock, the old man he'd called _professor_ fell silent.

"That's better. Now, let's take a walk."

The three took the professor into their middle and guided him into the direction of the harbor.

"Didn't you hear him?" Alison's voice suddenly came from behind them. "He told you to let him go."

The three men turned their heads in her direction. Their frowning in response to her words quickly turned into a lascivious grin as they saw Alison standing there, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Well, look who we have here," the first man stated with a malicious undertone. "Do you suddenly have a girlfriend, Grandpa? And a pretty one, too."

"Nice tits, baby," one of the other two commented. "Maybe you should come with us as well, we could have a lot of fun together."

Alison changed her posture. Looking demanding and defiant a moment ago, she now behaved very seductively.

"Fun, huh?" she asked in a sultry voice as she slowly came closer, licking her lips. "That sounds good. What kind of fun do you have in mind?"

"Come with us and you'll see, baby," the third man said. "Jeez, I've been at sea far too long, I'm getting a boner just from looking at you."

"Mmmh, I can tell," Alison stated and reached for his crotch while the other two were hooting.

Suddenly, she tightened her grip and the man cried out in pain.

"Son of a bitch!" the first man shouted and pointed his gun at her. "Let him go!"

In return, Alison let her eyes glow red. He took a step back in shock.

"Oh, really?" She asked in a perfect imitation of Clint Eastwood's voice. "Go ahead, make my day."

She let go of the other man's crotch and he sank to the ground, moaning in pain. Then she quickly grabbed the gun, a nine-millimeter Beretta, ripped it from the hand of the first man and bit off the tip of the barrel, chewed it a bit before she swallowed. The three men as well as the professor stared at her in shock.

"If you haven't noticed, that was the signal for you to run," Alison said. "As long as you still _can_ run."

To emphasize her words, she made a step forward and thrust her flat hand on the chest of the first man who had pointed the gun at her. There was a loud thud and then he flew ten yards down the street, rolling over several times when he hit the pavement again. The other two hesitated for a second, then ran after him, one of them hobbling and still groaning in pain from her iron grip on his crotch. They helped their buddy up and, limping and cursing, ran away, never looking back.

Alison held out her hand to the professor to help him up.

"Come with me if you wanna live."

He just stared at her stoic expression with a questioning face for a second, then she smiled.

"Sorry, it's a cheesy line, I know, but I couldn't resist."

"Who in God's name are you?"

"My name's…"

"ALISON!"

They turned their heads as John came running towards them, followed by the others.

"What happened?" he asked breathlessly as he caught up with them. "Is he hurt?"

"No," she replied, "I hurt two of the attackers a bit, though. But they'll live. No serious injuries, as you requested."

Finally, the old man seemed to have made up his mind and took Alison's hand. She pulled him up.

"I'm Alison," she said, "this is John, my husband. And these are Cameron, Emily, Jody, Jesse, Lauren, Jason, Morris and Derek."

"My name is Antonio Cigés. Professor Antonio Cigés from the Museo del Oro Zenu in Cartagena, Colombia," he replied and shook hands with everyone. "I suppose I have to thank you. Very impressive trick with the voice, the glowing eyes and the gun. Are you some kind of stage magician?"

"Yeah, it's her hobby," John said quickly. "That and martial arts. Who were these men and what did they want from you?"

The professor looked at them suspiciously.

"This isn't some elaborate setup, right? You're not working for DeVooght, are you?"

"Who's DeVooght?" Jesse asked.

Professor Cigés looked at her, noticing her forming belly. He seemed to come to the conclusion that whoever his opponent was, he wouldn't send a pregnant woman after him.

"Vincent DeVooght," he said, "an internationally known and equally notorious treasure hunter. He plunders archaeological sites and sells antique art treasures to rich collectors. He's Dutch and he's got his own research ship, the _Barracuda_, with all kinds of equipment on board, including deep sea submersibles and a veritable thug squad to get rid of competitors."

"And what does he want from you?" Alison asked.

The professor looked around.

"Let's not talk here in the street. Let's go to my hotel room, there I can show you."

* * *

The professor was staying in a small boutique hotel near the harbor, with a good view over the Atlantic Ocean. The rooms were accessible via separate staircases, so no lobby had to be crossed. One could come and go without being noticed by the hotel staff or other guests. The old man led the group to the entrance to his room and opened the door.

He entered… and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Jesus Christ…" he gasped.

Alison, Cameron and Emily quickly pushed themselves past him and entered the room. It looked as if a tornado had swept through it. The furniture was knocked over and moved around, all the decorations were scattered on the floor, some broken or damaged. Drawers were torn out, the dresser and the wardrobe rummaged through; all the professor's clothes lay on the floor. The safe had been broken into as well. Alison quickly started scanning the room, touching furniture and some of the scattered objects.

"Whatever they were looking for," Derek commented, "they really wanted it."

"But did they find it?" John asked and looked at the professor who still couldn't believe what he saw.

"What?" he asked and looked at him. "Oh…"

He walked into the bathroom and knelt in front of the shower. There he pushed on one of the tiles.

"I accidentally found out it was loose after taking a shower," he explained. "You only notice it when you step out of the cubicle."

Under the tile was a narrow cavity and inside it was a small, ancient-looking note book in a plastic bag. Professor Cigés pulled it out and held it up.

"Not as clever as they thought they were," he stated triumphantly.

"A note book?" Lauren asked.

"Not just any note book," Professor Cigés replied with a broad smile. "It's the diary of…"

"First things first," John interrupted. "Alison, can you tell us something about the burglars?"

"The same three men I encountered in the street," she replied.

"What? How can you know that?" the professor asked.

"They left their DNA," Alison replied. "Skin flakes in the air and on the objects they touched. Also, some hair."

The professor looked at her with a puzzled face, not sure if she was being serious or just pulling his leg.

"Who are you guys?" he then asked with a frown.

"It's not important who we are," John said, "but to us it looks like you need our help. How about you telling us what this is all about? And while you do that, we'll clean up the room."

They put an armchair back on its legs so that the old man could sit in it. Then they started to clean up while he began talking.

"It's about the _Maria Barrios_," he began.

"The woman you were talking about at the restaurant?" Cameron asked.

"No… not a woman. A ship. A Spanish galleon. Are you familiar with the history of the Spanish treasure fleet?"

"A bit," John replied. "They brought gold and silver and other valuables to Spain from the 16th to the 18th century, right?"

"From 1566 to 1790, to be precise," the professor corrected. "Twice a year, the Spanish crown organized convoys to the New World and back. The home port of the treasure fleet was Seville. From there, they brought daily necessities and supplies to America. On the way back, however, the ships were loaded with treasures they had robbed from the native population. The convoys were heavily protected, but still many ships were lost, partly due to privateers and pirates, partly due to shipwrecks. Many wrecks are still undiscovered, and treasure hunters are looking for them all over the Caribbean and elsewhere. Some of the ships were loaded with so much gold, silver and gemstones that today's value of them exceeds billions of dollars. We know this because the cargo manifests have been preserved, even if the ships had sunk or had been robbed. Many galleons carried hundreds of tons of gold and silver."

"And that's what DeVooght is looking for, right?" Jody asked, "one of those lost treasure ships."

"Yes, the _Maria Barrios_," Professor Cigés confirmed, "the _Maria Barrios_ is the jackpot of all treasure ships, so to speak, because there is one thing that distinguishes her from all the other treasure ships."

"Oh?" Lauren asked. "And what is that?"

"Normally the conquistadors had melted down the precious metal that they'd stolen from the indigenous peoples and turned it into bars in order to be able to transport it more easily. But this wasn't the case with the Maria Barrios. In 1708, she had left Cartagena with a crew of almost 400 men and a cargo of almost six-hundred tons of gold, silver, and gemstones - a large portion of it being unaltered jewelry because the Spanish crown was interested in the craftsmanship of the natives."

"Wow," John said, "must have been a huge ship for the times."

"Yes, the _Maria Barrios_ was almost seventy meters long."

"How much would that be worth today?"

"It's estimated that it could earn up to thirty-five billion dollars on the black market."

Derek whistled.

"That explains why DeVooght is so eager to find the wreck," he said. "But what's _your_ part in this game?"

"I know the position where the _Maria Barrios_ sank."

"And you're travelling around the world alone with that knowledge?" Jesse asked. "Isn't that a bit risky?"

"Only when somebody else knows about it," the professor replied. "I told nobody, but unfortunately, DeVooght somehow found out anyway. Don't ask me how."

"And how did _you_ find out about it?" Jesse asked.

"Through a friend of mine. He has an antiquarian bookshop here in Funchal and called me two weeks ago to tell me that when the household of a deceased old lady was dissolved, an almost three-hundred-year-old diary was found..." He held up the small book in his hand, "… and that it contained the records of an 18th-century sailor who was stranded here on Madeira as the only survivor of a shipwreck after a heavy storm. Apparently, he fell in love with a local woman, married her, had some children. He never left the island again and never told anyone his true origins. The diary lay in the attic of their house until the old lady died. Apparently, she was the sailor's last living descendant."

"So… I assume he was aboard the _'Maria Barrios'_?" John asked.

"He was the second officer, a man named Luiz Antonio Vicario. And he firmly believed that his ship had only gone astray because the treasure in the belly of the ship was cursed. So he thought it best not to tell anyone about it. His diary was forgotten - to this day."

"If I remember correctly," Alison remarked while the old man opened the book on a page he had bookmarked before, "they used the ocean currents to their advantage back then. The southern route uses a current from Europe to America, while the northern route uses a current from America to Europe. The route from America to Spain would not have led the galleon past Madeira. Instead, the Azores should have been on their way."

"Very good, young lady," Professor Cigés stated with an acknowledging nod. "You're right, the convoy the _Maria Barrios_ belonged to, had taken the northern route past the Azores. But the ship was separated from the other ships in a heavy storm during the night and went off course. The winds blew it south-east towards Madeira. But they didn't know that at the time, because in such heavy weather, there was no way to determine their position. The surviving sailor described it. Here, let me read you the most important passage."

The professor turned back a few pages. Then he started to read the handwritten lines, translating the Spanish directly to English.

_"When it finally cleared up after ten days and nights and the storm had died away, we realized we were alone on the ocean. Not a single other ship was visible on the horizon. The captain determined our position and found out that we were almost three hundred miles off course to the south-east, outside the known ocean currents. The ship was badly damaged by the storm, but we were able to do a makeshift repair. We headed for Madeira, the nearest dry land, but the waters were unfamiliar to us. While circumnavigating the eastern tip of the island, we collided with a rock that lay hidden under the surface. The ship quickly ran full of water. We drifted a bit to the east but couldn't prevent the sinking. There was no time left to put the boats in the water. Like all of us, I jumped over board and swam ashore with my last strength, only to find out that I was the only survivor. The others had probably not had the strength anymore to swim the five miles to the shore. When the locals found me and cockered me up, I lied to them that I had fallen from a ship heading for America at night and was washed up on the beach. I don't think it would be wise to tell them about the cargo of the Maria Barrios. The waters off the island are very deep anyway and the chances of salvage are non-existent. I suppose I'm going to take this secret to my grave."_

"That means," Derek said, "the wreck has to be five miles off the eastern coast of Madeira."

"Correct," the professor confirmed. "Nobody ever thought that the _Maria Barrios_ sank a few miles off the coast of Madeira. Everyone was looking for it much farer north. I flew here to collect the book. It takes a long time and is very expensive to put together an expedition. The ocean in that area is between two hundred and two thousand meters deep, so finding and salvaging the treasure won't be easy. I wanted to make sure that nobody else could get their hands on the sailor's diary until the find would be publicly announced and the salvage operation was ready to begin. The museum in Cartagena I work for, specializes in Native American gold jewelry and wants to claim the treasure of the _Maria Barrios_ in the name of the state of Colombia, from where the gold originated."

"But DeVooght is now here and his salvage vessel with him," Cameron concluded. "He could start the salvage any day."

"Yes, all he needs, is the position. And for that, he either needs me or the book. If you're right and those three thugs are responsible for the chaos in here, then the invitation to lunch was just an excuse to search the room in my absence."

"Did he want to bribe you?"

The professor scoffed.

"Yes, of course. Five percent of the profit. I'd be a rich man. But it would be wrong. The treasure belongs in a museum and should be made accessible to the public. Almost all the gold that the Spaniards had stolen in the New World, was melted down. The discovery of the Maria Barrios is going to be a world sensation."

He hesitated shortly.

"Why am I telling you all this? I don't know you at all. And yet... somehow I trust you."

"I have this effect on people," Alison replied. "They just trust me - most of the time."

"Don't worry, professor," John added and put a hand on his shoulder, "believe me… the last thing we need, is more money."

"You know, I don't know why but I believe you. Maybe I'm simply too desperate. What am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to defend myself against DeVooght for so long? I can't make it public until the wreck has been discovered. And he'll be watching my every step from now on!"

"Well…" John said, "there might be a way. And don't worry, you're not alone. Not by a long shot."

**-0-**

"What do you mean she's a demon? Have you lost your mind because you got a beating from a woman?"

Vincent DeVooght stared unbelieving at his men. They'd returned to the _Barracuda_ a couple of minutes ago, two of them limping, presenting an unbelievable story. What they'd told him, was either the result of too much alcohol or too much imagination. A woman with red-glowing eyes who bit off the barrel of a gun and had superhuman power? Nonsense. They must be fantasizing. But that's what you get when you recruit your people in places where those come together who seem to have nothing left to live for.

"Never mind," he said, "what about the diary? Did you find it?"

"We've been combing the place, looking in every nook and cranny. No diary."

DeVooght groaned.

"What am I paying you for? Thank God I haven't been idle. I saw the long-haired woman follow the professor. While you were busy being beaten up by her, I've done research on the people she had lunch with. It seems they arrived on board the _Rising Star _that moored over there at the main jetty. The yacht belongs to the billionaire and Hollywood mogul Isaak Sirko. We must make sure that the professor doesn't make friends with them and possibly gains access to funding for an expedition to the wreck. My client would be less than happy about such unwanted competition."

"You never told us who that client is, boss."

"You don't need to know. You only need to know that we won't get paid for coming back empty-handed. Almost five million dollars have already been invested in this operation and our client hates making losses. As a matter of fact, he'll come here personally tomorrow to check on the progress, and he's bringing his main business partner with him. We should better be able to deliver results by then."

"Then what shall we do, boss?"

DeVooght thought for a moment.

"Can we still tap the professor's cellphone?" he finally asked.

"Sure, we can still use it to listen to all the conversations he's having without anyone noticing, thanks to the spying software we were able to install on it. The microphone acts as a bug."

"Good… prepare the crew for a quick exit from the port, we might have to leave suddenly."

"You got it, boss. What's the plan?"

"I don't know yet. I just know that for thirty-five billion dollars, we can't afford to be squeamish."

**-0-**

John and the others had brought Professor Cigés aboard the _Rising Star_, introduced him to the rest of the team and then told them about the sunken galleon and its cargo.

"A treasure hunt?" Sydney asked in excitement.

"Yes," John confirmed. "And I already have a plan."

"Cool!"

"I heard of DeVooght," Isaak said and looked across the harbor to where the _Barracuda_ was moored. "His reputation is legendary among collectors of ancient art. But he's also known to be unscrupulous, and with a prize like that in sight, he will surely stop at nothing. We should be careful."

"Don't worry, we will be," John assured.

"I'm not an expert," Anne stated, "but isn't there an international treaty that rules who's the owner of such treasures? In case of sunken ships, it's the state the ship belonged to, if I remember correctly… especially since it's also the final resting place of hundreds of sailors. The ship sailed under Spanish flag. Why do you think you can acquire it for your museum?"

"Yeah well…" the professor replied, "that's true, of course, but my main priority is to not let it fall into the hands of those treasure hunters. I'd rather let Spain have it then DeVooght and whoever is financing his operation. Because then the artifacts would disappear, probably forever. There will be a dispute, no doubt about it. But in similar cases, the – let's name it – _stolen goods_ were allocated to the countries of origin. I'm not a politician, neither am I a judge. But my country has never signed the treaty you mentioned and since the treasure was loaded onto the vessel in Cartagena…"

He shrugged ambiguously.

"Not our business, to be honest," Isaak stated. "All we can do, is helping the professor, so the fortune doesn't fall into the wrong hands."

"I agree," Catherine said, "now, shall we take a look at the sea map?"

* * *

**10:37 p.m.**

Night had fallen over the island of Madeira and the city of Funchal was deeply asleep. But on board the Rising Star, there was some activity, even though it happened in complete darkness.

"I don't understand what you're trying to do, Miss Weaver," Professor Cigés said in a low voice.

From the docking platform at the stern of the _Rising Star _and out of sight for the_ Barracuda_, Catherine, John and Alison climbed into one of the small rubber dinghies Isaak's yacht was equipped with. Catherine carried a mysterious metal box with her.

"I already explained it to you," Catherine replied. "We know the approximate position of the wreck of the _Maria Barrios_. But we do not know _exactly_ where it sank. I intend to find out tonight, so you can inform the authorities and the media, and claim the find for your museum. We're using the rubber dinghy for rowing out to sea and start the outboard engine when we're out of earshot."

"Yes, yes, yes," the professor replied impatiently, "I heard and understood that part. But how? How can you find a wreck that lies in a depth of thousand meters or more, with nothing but a rubber dinghy? You don't even carry diving equipment, not to mention that you'd need special gear for such depths."

"We're not going to dive," John replied. "Zeira Corp has, uh… developed a new method to scan the bottom of the sea from above. It's classified because it has been developed for the U.S. Navy. Please no more questions, professor."

The old man looked at the metal box in Catherine's hands, sighed and made a resigned gesture.

"Whatever…" he stated, not sounding very convinced, seeing no alternative to trusting them..

"We'll be back before dawn," Alison said.

"And the rest of us will stand guard and make sure that DeVooght won't get any crazy ideas," Cameron replied. "Like boarding our ship for instance."

"Surely you wouldn't be comfortable inside such a small rubber dinghy, right?" Derek asked with a smirk. "Believe it or not, professor, but Cameron and Emily are scared of water."

"Not scared!" Emily protested. "We just… try to avoid it."

Derek grinned.

"Uh-huh…"

"Just make sure it won't end in a bloodbath while we're away," John stated and considered his mother, Derek, Jesse, Savannah and Allie who were all carrying guns and rifles.

"We definitely won't shoot first," Emily promised.

"Good."

Alison pushed the rubber dinghy away, then reached for the two paddles and began to row. Soon, the darkness had swallowed them.

* * *

"Are we far away enough now?" John asked after ten minutes.

"Yes, we should be out of sight now," Catherine replied.

She let her legs into the water at the stern of the small boat and turned them into paired fins. Moving them up and down very quickly, the dinghy suddenly was pushed forward in silence but as fast as it would have been with the outboard motor on.

"This is better," John said, feeling the wind in his hair. "Who needs an engine if you have a T-1001 at hand?"

"I heard that, John," Catherine replied with a smirk, "Don't get used to this kind of 'service'."

"Be glad you never had to do laundry for them or clean the house," Alison commented.

John looked a bit sheepishly, still feeling kinda guilty for having misused his then cyborg friend for such mundane tasks. Alison saw it and bent forward to kiss him.

"Don't worry, husband," she said. "Everything's forgiven."

* * *

**11:27 p.m.**

They'd driven out at sea for about half an hour when Alison told Catherine to stop. The sea was calm, and the dinghy rocked gently in the shallow waves under a full moon.

"Here it is," she said, "from the information we have, this is the most likely position."

"I guess the wreck and its cargo will be scattered in a wide radius across the ocean floor," Catherine stated, climbing back into the dinghy. "I should be able to find it quickly. Gold pops up very clearly on my scanners. The water is nearly a thousand meters deep here. It'll take me a moment to go down, scan the area and return to the surface, even at my highest speed."

"Having you is still much better than diving down in one of those infinitely slow submersibles," John pointed out. "Do you have the camera Isaak gave you?"

Catherine opened up the metal box and held up a small action camera that was embedded in a watertight casing.

"Waterproof to 3,000 meters," she said, and it has an LED ring light. "Should provide us with enough proof photos. No idea why he keeps this toy in the first place, but it suddenly has become useful. All right, see you in a few."

She pushed the camera to her belly, and it disappeared inside her morphing body which enclosed it completely. She then turned into her protoform and slithered overboard, disappearing into the depths of the ocean. John leaned back onto the air-filled tube behind him.

"It's the first time Cam and Emily didn't want to come along," he remarked.

"Who can blame them? If they fall overboard, it's first a deep and long fall and then a long climb back on land. It's unheard of any Terminator ever doing that. Normally, we avoid deep waters."

"But it wouldn't harm them, right?"

"No… I don't believe so. I'm only pointing out that nobody has tried so far. And if the two had come along, they'd probably only be sitting here stiffly, trying not to move. They'd be of no use."

"Catherine doesn't have that problem… when she changed shape and jumped overboard, it had something… elegant to it… something… natural. As if she was finally in her element."

"I admire her," Alison stated. "She can do things I will never be able to do. I mean… I can dive as deep and return to the surface like her as well… but only as fast as my body structure allows me. She can turn into the perfect underwater being and move through water at a much faster speed than a dolphin. I'm limited, due to my fixed shape."

"Mmmh… I happen to kinda like your fixed shape," John replied and moved closer to her. "Say… since we don't have anything to do, would you want to…?"

"John Connor! How can you even think of such a thing!? We're in the middle of the ocean, alone in a rubber dinghy, and all you can think about, is sex…"

"I'm sorry, I…"

"Of course I want!"

And with that, she was all over him.

**-0-**

Catherine swam deeper and deeper as fast as she could. It didn't take long until the seabed came into scanning range. She activated her infrared vision and started the scan. It only took her a moment to realize that she had been diving at the right spot. The wreck was only a few hundred meters off the estimated position and in an astonishingly good shape for being there for three hundred years. Must be the lack of oxygen and microorganisms down there. She swam closer to it and examined what had remained of the hull.

The leak was at the bottom of the ship. Thanks to the heavy cargo, it must have sunk like a stone. Part of the cargo was scattered within a radius of about a hundred meters around the wreck, but the lion's share was still on board. The salvage would be easier than the professor had assumed.

She formed two arms, then pulled out the camera, switched on the LED light and started taking pictures of the wreck from as many angles as possible, avoiding blowing up dust. Then she swam into the ship's cargo bay.

**-0-**

**11:57 p.m.**

Exhausted, John let himself fall onto the soft bottom of the rubber dinghy.

"That… was nice," he stated, breathing heavily.

"And quick," Alison added, sounding a little bit disappointed.

"Hey, Catherine's going to return any moment," he responded and put his shirt back on, followed by his shorts.

"She'll know within a second what we've been doing," she pointed out and put her clothes back on as well. "She can scan you and…"

Alison fell silent, turned her head around and stared into the night.

"What is it?" John asked.

"A boat," she replied. "It's coming towards us at a high speed."

"What? I don't see any position lights."

"I think they deliberately left the lights out. It's the _Barracuda,_ and it's coming right at us at high speed. Quick, John, we have to start the engine."

John jumped up and went to the onboard motor. It was a two-stroke that had to be started with a pull string. He pulled it three times, but the thing only sputtered. John could now see the bow wave of the approaching ship in the pale moonlight.

"Let me try," Alison stated, grabbed the string from John, pulled hard… and held the thing in her hand. "Oops, I think I've overdosed my physical strength a little."

"Can you start it anyway?"

"No, John, I think there's only one thing we can do."

"What?"

She grabbed him under his armpits and lifted him up.

"JUMP!"

Then she threw him overboard, following him immediately.

**-0-**

**10:58 p.m.**

Vincent DeVooght stood on the bridge of the _Barracuda_ next to its captain, wearing night vision goggles, as did the rest of the crew present.

"Sir," the captain said, "We should turn now, or we'll run them over."

"Stay on course!" DeVooght ordered. "They mustn't be allowed to get back to land!"

The rest of the officers on the bridge looked nervously at their captain. Sweat was running from his forehead as he stepped back from the ship's wheel.

"I won't do it," he finally stated. "I won't run them over."

"Fine!" DeVooght exclaimed and grabbed the wheel. "I'm taking command of the ship. And by the way, you're fired."

DeVooght saw how they tried to start the engine of their rubber dinghy. Two of them only… where was the third? Where was the red-haired woman? The young man and the long-haired beauty jumped out of the rubber dinghy shortly before the Barracuda ran it over. One of the officers reached for two life jackets that hung at the wall.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" DeVooght asked angrily.

"We can't just let them drown out here, can we?" the officer asked back.

DeVooght pulled out a gun and pointed it at him. The man stopped dead in his tracks and raised his hands. Suddenly, the _Barracuda_ was hit by something. A short, hard blow was echoing through the ship.

"What the fuck…?" DeVooght asked. "Did we hit a rock?"

"There are no rocks out here, just the sea" the captain replied nervously. "It sounded as if a torpedo hit us but didn't explode."

"What are you saying, man? That a submarine fired a torpedo at us?"

"I don't know, Sir. I can only say that while I was in the Navy, we got hit by a torpedo that didn't explode. It felt and sounded similar."

There was a series of loud, metallic clanging noises, as if somebody would hit the hull with a big hammer.

"What the…?" DeVooght asked and stared in the clueless faces of his crew.

Suddenly, there was a call from the engine room. The captain looked expectantly at DeVooght who didn't seem to be in control of the situation anymore.

"All right, take the call… captain," he said, and the captain pushed the intercom button.

"Yes? Bridge here! What is it?"

"We've got a leak!" someone's panicking voice came from the loudspeaker. "We're quickly running full of water!"

"Calm down, Cragg. What happened?"

"I dunno… we got hit by something and… and I think we have an intruder. We... oh my God…"

There was a gurgling noise, then the man was silent.

**-0-**

Catherine was on her way back and about a hundred meters below the surface when she witnessed the drama that was going on above. The ship steered directly and at high speed towards the rubber dinghy. Obviously, the intention was to run it over.

She accelerated and swam towards the boat at her maximum speed, but there wasn't enough time. Just before the dinghy was rammed, two figures jumped overboard, obviously John and Alison. Catherine continued to swim unperturbed towards the attacking ship. Just before she reached it, she turned her body into a massive spear that shot through the water with a speed of sixty knots towards the underside of the hull.

She broke through and immediately took on her human shape again. Water was quickly pouring in through the leak she had caused. Looking around, she noticed that she was in the cargo hold. Turning her arms into lances, she punched more holes into the hull below the waterline, causing even more water to spill inside.

Catherine heard running boots and the door do the cargo hold was opened. Two sailors stormed in and were shocked upon seeing the damage. Then their eyes fell on Catherine.

"**INTRUDER!"** one of them shouted. **"INTRU…."**

He fell silent as his head was pierced. The same happened to the other sailor before he could react. Catherine walked stoically past their bodies in full Terminator mode, staring straight ahead with a determined face while the water level rose steadily and would soon reach the door to spill into the next room.

She entered the engine room. Three men were inside of it. She killed two of them quickly and quietly before they could make a noise, then she walked towards the third who was just talking to the bridge.

"I dunno… we got hit by something and… and I think we have an intruder. We…" Turning around, he noticed Catherine and saw that her arms weren't arms but sharp blades. "Oh my God…"

Catherine slashed at him, cutting his throat, and he sank gurgling to the ground. She looked around and jammed the levers of the throttle, so that the ship would keep going at full speed. Then she realized by the writing on the control panel that she was onboard the _Barracuda_, DeVooght's ship. That son of a bitch. How did he know where they'd be looking for the wreck?

She climbed the stairs to the upper decks. More sailors came her way. Slashing, cutting and stabbing, she made her way up through the ship, leaving nobody alive. Before she entered the bridge, she took on the shape of the man she'd killed in the engine room. Then she stepped through the door and looked around. There was DeVooght, and three more officers, one of them obviously the captain.

"Cragg," DeVooght said in astonishment as he saw her, "you're okay. When you called, it sounded as if…"

Two spears shot through the bridge and killed two officers. The captain shared their fate a second later. DeVooght became as white as chalk as Catherine returned to her normal form again.

"Who… what… in God's name…?" he stammered as he backed off, glancing at the door that led outside.

"I wouldn't try to run, if I were you," Catherine stated coldly. "I'm faster. And as to who and what I am, Mr. DeVooght, my name is Catherine Weaver. Maybe you already heard of me. I don't take it kindly when somebody tries to kill my friends and loved ones."

She stepped closer to him and turned her index finger into a pointy metal tip, elongating it until it was close to DeVooght's right eye.

"How did you know where we were going?"

"I… I…"

Her other index finger pierced his shoulder.

"AAAAAAAAAAH!"

"I won't ask again," Catherine said and pulled her finger out again.

DeVooght was breathing heavily.

"We… we.. put a spying software on… Professor Cigés' cellphone. We… could hear… everything he was saying… That's how… we learned about the diary and… where you were going tonight... Please… please don't kill me."

Catherine tilted her head.

"An expedition like yours is expensive. Very expensive. Who finances it?"

"Ma… Mahesh Bokhari."

"Bokhari…?" Catherine asked a little surprised. "The Indian steel mogul?"

"Yes… He's coming to visit tomorrow with one of his partners."

"Partner? Who is that?"

"I don't know, he was going to introduce me to him tomorrow."

"I'm afraid, Mr. DeVooght, your expedition has turned into a failure. But thank you for the information."

She pierced his skull. He jerked for a moment, then fell down dead as she retracted her finger again. Looking around, Catherine stepped towards the steering wheel and turned the _Barracuda_ on a northeastern course. Then she walked back down into the ship, making sure nobody was alive, punching more holes into the hull on her way.

**-0-**

John quickly discovered that swimming in the open sea wasn't much fun, even though the waves were low. The water wasn't exactly warm, he couldn't see anything in the dark and the waves hit his face, making it difficult not to swallow the salty water.

"Alis…" he coughed as water sloshed into his windpipe. "Alison!"

"I'm here, John," he heard her say right next to him.

"Can you stay afloat?" he asked.

"Yes. What about you?"

"The water is quite cold, and it keeps getting in my mouth."

"The temperature is eighteen degrees Celsius. You should be okay for a while. Try not to swallow too much."

"No shit, Sherlock!"

He coughed again as another wave hit his face.

"The dinghy isn't completely destroyed," Alison stated. "One air-filled chamber is still intact, it should be enough to carry you."

She directed John to the remains of the dinghy, and he clung to it.

"Where's the _Barracuda_?" he asked.

"She kept going in northeastern direction. I registered a heavy impact under water."

"Catherine?"

"Possibly, as there are no underwater riffs or rocks here. I suppose she's taking care of things right now."

"Great… so much for trying not to kill anyone on this trip."

"Well, knowing Catherine, she'll cover up all the tracks. She'll probably sink the ship, then nobody will be able to perform an autopsy on the bodies. The bottom of the sea is a thousand meters below us and probably a lot deeper a few miles northeast of here."

"Is that supposed to calm me down? Questions will be asked."

"Yes, maybe. But we'll be gone by then and nobody will make a connection between us and the disappearance of the _Barracuda_. And I'll make sure that the professor won't talk as well... with your consent, of course."

"Sometimes I wish you'd be a bit more nervous in such situations and wouldn't come up with a solution so quickly."

"Sorry, John… but I'm a machine. I can't help it."

"Let's hope he isn't immune to your chemicals as well."

* * *

Half an hour went by. Then suddenly Catherine appeared next to them in the water.

"Are you two okay?" she asked.

"Wet and cold... but okay," John replied with a slightly trembling voice. "Am I right in assuming we'll never hear from DeVooght again?"

"Like a good skipper, he will go down with his ship. It'll take about half an hour until the _Barracuda_ becomes a wreck on the bottom of the sea herself. I made sure it's very deep where she'll go down."

"Any idea about how to get back on land?"

"Actually, I have," Catherine said and morphed into the shape of a small boat.

"Did I mention that I'm glad we have you with us?" John asked as he climbed inside.

"Occasionally," Catherine's voice came from somewhere he couldn't make out, sounding amused. "Alison, dear, would you be so kind to function as our propulsion?"

"Of course," she replied, grabbed the Catherineboat at its stern and started paddling her legs.

**-0-**

**01:45 a.m.**

"I can't believe it," Professor Cigés stated and pulled his hair up. "He actually tried to kill you?"

"Apparently, he did," Alison stated.

"We're so sorry, John," Cameron said, "we didn't see them leave, we got distracted by a group of drunk people on the pier, and then the boat was gone."

"It's all right," he replied and pulled her and Emily into his arms, "you wouldn't have been able to catch up with her anyway, and there was no cellphone reception out there."

"And you say the _Barracuda_ sank?" the professor asked. "With all the crew aboard?"

"Yes," Catherine confirmed, "a terrible tragedy, isn't it?"

"So… DeVooght is dead?"

"I'm afraid so. We could do nothing but watch."

"But how?"

John shrugged.

"Who knows? Maybe the outboard motor tore a hole in the hull when driving over the dinghy. Very unlikely but hey, an iceberg sank the _Titanic_ in a starry night with a completely calm sea. However it happened, the _Barracuda_ is now itself a lost wreck on the bottom of the sea. It drifted a few miles to the northeast before it sank. The ocean is more than two thousand meters deep there. Maybe in a few hundred years, somebody will find it."

The old man looked at John skeptically. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find any other or better explanation. They had gathered on the aft deck of the _Rising Sun_ after John, Catherine and Alison had returned, dried themselves and put on fresh clothes. Now everyone was being briefed about what had happened.

"Bad luck strikes sometimes," Sarah concluded. "The good thing is that DeVooght left the harbor unannounced, so nobody knows where he went or what happened – or that his boat sank."

"But… what about radar? What about the GPS tracking of his ship?"

"Unfortunately for them, the radar as well as the GPS tracking was malfunctioning in the last couple of hours," Catherine replied. "Maybe it was a hacker attack of some kind, who knows?"

Professor Cigés frowned, apparently doubting what was said.

"Who are you guys?" he asked, suddenly becoming very wary. "Are you with the government or something? I wasn't born yesterday. Nothing of this makes any sense, not with a massive amount of resources in the background."

"We have resources," John admitted, "but they're our own resources, they have nothing to do with any government. I know it's hard for you to accept but look at the bright side: DeVooght is gone, the wreck of the _Maria Barrios_ is now yours to discover. You can hold a press conference tomorrow to announce the find."

"And we now also know that he knew about your activities because he was able to smuggle a spying software on your cellphone." Alison added, holding out her hand. "Give it to me, please."

Reluctantly, the professor handed her his cellphone. She removed the SIM card and handed it to him.

"What… what will you do with it?" he asked. "Are you going to scan it and get rid of the… Hey! What are you doing?"

He stared in disbelief as Alison shoved the phone into her mouth, bit it in half, chewed, swallowed and then put the rest into her mouth as well, chewing and finally swallowing it down.

"What…? How…? But…" the old man uttered, pointing at her, looking around as if expecting somebody starting to laugh at any second, revealing it as a prank.

"I have to say," Alison said, licking her fingers, "this particular phone is not only very vulnerable to malware, it also tastes worse than others I tried. Not a good quality."

The professor was frozen in his pose, his finger pointing at her, his mouth opening and closing without a sound coming out of it. Alison looked at John, and he nodded. She stepped closer to the professor and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Everything's fine," she stated, looking into his eyes. "You can trust us. We're on your side. Don't worry, we'll be gone tomorrow, and you can tell the world about your find. Nobody will have any idea what happened to the _Barracuda_. Obviously, DeVooght thought he could beat you to the finish line but became reckless and lost his ship and his life in the process. Doesn't matter, because the glory of discovery is all yours now, professor. You don't have to share it with anyone, and nobody needs to know that we were involved. You shouldn't talk about it ever and deny all knowledge."

He looked at her with a frown for a second, then he nodded, seemingly relieved.

"You're right," he agreed, "that makes sense. Everything's fine. Nobody needs to know what happened tonight, and I won't tell anyone." He shook his head as if to clear it. "But finding sponsors to explore the wreck and salvage the cargo will take months. Not to mention the approvals of the Portuguese authorities and the dispute that will now break out about who owns the treasure..."

"Well, we cannot help with the bureaucracy," Isaak stated, "but we can help with the money. Consider me and my wife your new sponsors."

"What? Really?" The professor looked surprised, then laughed out loud with relief. "What can I say? Thank you, Mr. Sirko. Thank you, Miss Weaver. You will be instrumental in ensuring that the stolen gold, silver and everything else returns to where it came from."

"It's the least we can do," Catherine replied with a smile. "I've long felt the need to contribute more to the common good. After all, you can't take money with you to your grave, as they say. And the two of us have more money than we will ever need."

"Besides, like Derek here, I was with the boy scouts," Isaak added, "and I learned that one should do a good deed every day."

Derek choked on his own saliva as he heard that and started coughing violently.

"You alright, babe?" Jesse asked and he nodded in reply.

Cameron and Emily were smirking. Then Kevin and Jason entered the deck, carrying a laptop.

"We've downloaded the photos from Catherine's camera," Kevin stated and put the laptop onto a table. "You gotta see this, folks, this is fantastic!"

They gathered around the laptop and looked at the many pictures Catherine had taken. It showed the wreck as well as some of the gold shimmering in the light of the LED's. It was scattered all over the place. Then some pictures showed the inside of the wreck and hundreds of crates, some of them broken and full of jewelry, gem stones and bars of gold and silver. The professor first looked in awe, then started to giggle frantically, and finally broke out into laughter while looking at the screen. He didn't even think about asking how those pictures were taken.

"I think it's time for champagne," Isaak stated and got up. "Or does anyone prefer a Tequila Sunrise? We happen to have a lot of it onboard, you know…"

**-0-**

**_Sunday, December 14th, 2008 – 03:52 p.m._**

**_Day 25 of our voyage_**

_We left Funchal early in the morning. Later in the day, news reached us about the press conference the professor has held. We left him a thumb drive with Catherine's pictures and all news channels are now showing them. There's no doubt that this will make headlines all over the world. I'm happy for the professor, he seemed genuinely joyful about how things turned out, and not only because of Alison's chemicals. _

_No news about DeVooght and the 'Barracuda'. But I don't think it will take long until somebody starts missing them. Their disappearance will remain a mystery, though, Catherine and John Henry made sure of that. Sometimes it's frightening how much our modern world can be manipulated, how much it depends on the functionality of electronic devices and their interconnection. It was no problem at all for John Henry to cut Madeira off from the GPS signal for a few hours and to interfere with the local radar. I'm beginning to get an idea of the power Skynet had._

_Isaak and Catherine have been named sponsors for an upcoming salvage operation, and of course the presence of the 'Rising Star' in the port of Funchal hadn't gone unnoticed. But the professor stayed true to his word and didn't comment on that. All he mentioned was that the pictures of the wreck were taken by an underwater drone Isaak owned. Nobody doubted that as the pictures spoke for themselves, and I guess the reporters will make up their own story now. Doesn't matter, we've moved on towards the coast of Africa, where we'll make a quick stop in Morocco to visit Casablanca and Marrakesh. From there on, we'll go north and will spend Christmas somewhere in northern Europe. Afterwards, Catherine and Isaak will leave us and return to Los Angeles._

_The others are in Kevin's and Sydney's suite again. This time, also John, Cam, Emily and Alison have joined them, as well as Danny and Anne. I still have no idea what's going on in there, but I'm determined not to ask. I'm sure they'll reveal to us whatever project they're working on soon. As I know them, it'll probably be something revolutionary, something new that will be massively helpful to us. I'll allow myself to be surprised._

_Cam and Emily have been very quiet all day. They probably feel bad for not being there when John was forced to jump into the ocean. It has shown them drastically that their abilities are limited and that they cannot be there in every situation to protect him. All the more important that we have Alison and Catherine. But I think John will see to it that Emily and Cam don't feel too superfluous now. He has always had a good hand when it comes to balancing his three wives and he will certainly continue to do so. It was clear from the beginning that a sea voyage would carry certain risks and that there might be situations where Cam and Emily would not be of any help. The four of them have to deal with it. And they will, I'm sure of that._

**-0-**

**Sunday, December 14th, 2008 – 04:12 p.m.**

**Funchal, Madeira**

Mahesh Bokhari stood at the pier and looked out at sea.

"Still no news from what happened to DeVooght and his ship?" a man in a fancy dress asked who stood next to him.

"No," Bokhari replied, "no news. The authorities know nothing and there were system failures during the night, so they didn't notice him leaving. The _Barracuda_ disappeared off the face of the earth. No tracking signal, no radar record. And the treasure is out of reach for us now."

"Do you think he got cold feet and ran?"

"I don't know. Maybe he did, maybe he steered his boat on a cliff and it sank. We can only guess. I'm quite sure he'll show up again somewhere, then we'll question him. I don't like to lose."

"We must not be associated with this. My family and I already have enough trouble because of my dead brother and his activities."

"No one except DeVooght knows that I financed him. And nobody but me knows that you are my partner. I will remain silent and I recommend that you do the same."

"Still… losing five million dollars this way hurts."

"Yes… but only briefly. What hurts me more is that now Catherine Weaver and Isaak Sirko will be the ones who take profit from it all. Their reputation in the public eye will rise greatly. Fucking philanthropist…"

"Wait, what? Isaak Sirko?"

"Yes… you know him?"

"Not personally… but my brother had met with him shortly before he died. He didn't think much of Sirko. He said he was a bon vivant who had no respect. My father and I always had the feeling that he might have something to do with the death of my brother and the downfall of Kaliba."

"What are you saying, Mr. Al-Hani?"

"I say that maybe we should investigate what really happened here after all."

**-0-0-0-**


	4. Morocco

**_CHAPTER 4: "MOROCCO"_**

* * *

**Monday, December 15th, 2008 – 08:17 a.m.**

**Casablanca**

The _Rising Star_ had reached Morocco's biggest city early in the morning and everyone had gathered for breakfast on the open section of Deck Two. The journey from Funchal to the African coast had taken only twenty-two hours, making it just a stone's throw away by seafaring standards.

"I didn't expect it to look like that," Jody remarked as she looked at the skyline of Casablanca. "I… don't know, I… figured it smaller. You know… no tall buildings and stuff, like that tower over there. You know, like... in the movie."

"Yes, the 1940s movie is in everybody's head," said Isaak, "hence people tend to think it's only a small town in Northern Africa. But in reality, Casablanca is a metropolis with almost three and a half million inhabitants. If you include the suburbs, it's almost seven million. What you see in the film with Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman, are studio backdrops. Not a single scene was shot outside Hollywood."

Jody sighed.

"Another bubble burst."

"And the _'tower'_ over there," Isaak continued, "is not a tower, but the minaret of the mosque Hassan II. It's the largest mosque in Africa and the fifth largest in the world. The minaret is 210 meters high, which means it's higher than any church tower of a Christian church. At the top of it a laser is mounted that sends a beam towards Mecca at night".

"A laser, huh?" Derek remarked. "That sounds pretty modern for, well… you know…"

"Morocco is a rising country, Derek," Isaak pointed out, "Forget all the clichés you have concerning Africa and Islamic countries. Casablanca in particular is a very western oriented and modern city".

"I read that an American woman recreated _'Rick's Café'_ from the movie on the basis of the movie sets," John stated, "I'd like to see what it's like."

"And Charley and I would like to take a look into that mosque," Sarah added, "if that's possible."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Isaak remarked, "it's not Friday and as long as you take your shoes off…" He hesitated shortly. "I should probably stress again that shoes should be the _only_ thing you take off. Casablanca is modern but not _that_ modern. We don't want any trouble with the authorities just because you're walking around lightly dressed. Long trousers, belly covered and no deep necklines, if you please."

"Yeah, we got you the first time," Savannah replied and rolled her eyes. "We're not stupid."

"But sometimes you do stupid things," Cameron pointed out.

"I'm suddenly having a feeling of déjà vu," John remarked and bit into his buttered croissant.

Before anyone could ask him what he meant by that, Catherine's phone rang. She pulled it out, looked at it and frowned.

"It's Alistair," she stated.

"I thought he was on vacation on Hawaii," Alison remarked.

"That's what he said," Catherine replied, took the call and put it on speaker. "Hello Alistair, what do I owe the pleasure to? Shouldn't you be in Hawaii?"

"_Still am,"_ Alistair Norbury's voice replied from the phone, _"Yani and I are having a good time. But I got a call earlier from John Henry and he told me about Benjamin Bridger's hacker attack."_

"I apologize in John Henry's name," Catherine stated, "I explicitly told him to leave you in peace, except for emergencies. You deserve the time off."

"_Yeah, well…"_ Alistair replied, cleared his throat and suddenly sounded a bit contrite, _"He figured I could help from here and he was right. I probably know what information Bridger found on your PC."_

**-0-**

**At the same time in Oklahoma City**

The bald man with a full beard and horn-rimmed glasses walked on the footpath towards the veranda of the well-kept single-family house, holding a briefcase in his hand.

It was a good neighborhood. During the day, children played on the meadows and populated the sidewalks with bicycles, pedal cars and skateboards. But at this time of night, there was a ghostly silence. Most people had already gone to bed, only a few houses were still lit, and through some windows you could see the flickering of a television.

The man looked around to check if he was being watched.

"Nobody around," he said.

"_Good… proceed,"_ a male voice replied in his earpiece. _"Remember what I told you. You have to be quick."_

"Is it okay if I'm nervous, Ben?"

"_I think there's no way to avoid that, am I right?"_

"Nope. But this isn't the first time you've expected me to risk my life for you. I'm getting used to it."

Ben chuckled.

"_At least you still have your sense of humor. Believe it or not but I really like you, Jeff. Even with the bald head."_

"Very funny," Jeffrey Clark replied sarcastically.

He climbed the three steps of the stairs, stepped onto the front porch, and knocked. For a moment, nothing happened. Then steps could be heard from inside the house, heavy steps. The door was opened, and Jeff faced an unassuming, middle-aged man who was a little shorter than him.

"Yes? What do you want?"

"Mister Herman Bressmer?"

"Yes?"

Jeff pulled the trigger on his taser. Herman Bressmer jerked in silence for a moment, then keeled over backwards and fell to the floor with a loud thud. If he'd been familiar with a Terminator's standard front door approach, Jeff wouldn't have missed the irony of this situation.

"_Remember, two minutes,"_ Ben said in Jeff's ear when he walked inside the house and closed the door behind him.

"Yes, yes, yes, I know…" Jeff replied a little annoyed, switched on the light and knelt next to the lifeless body, pulling out a switchblade knife. His hands were shaking vigorously.

"_If he wakes up, just zap him again."_

"I know, I know… let me work."

Ben remained silent as Jeff cut a semi-circle at the right side of the man's head, then pulling up the skin to reveal the coltan skull.

"Wow," he uttered as he reached for a screwdriver to unscrew the cap, "This is really real, isn't it? I mean, this is one of them cyborgs."

"_It is,"_ Ben confirmed. _"Forty-Five seconds."_

Jeff opened the cap and with a pop and a hiss, air filled the vacuum inside.

"_Twenty seconds."_

With a violently trembling hand, Jeff reached for the pliers. He had trouble getting a hold on the chip with them.

"_Try to relax, Jeff. Ten seconds."_

Jeff took a deep breath and finally managed to grab the chip. Suddenly, there was a whirring noise as the Triple-Eight rebooted.

"_Pull it out! Pull it out!"_

The cyborg's eyes focused on the human that knelt by his side, then its hand reached for Jeff's throat, closing its fingers around it. But with a quick flick of his wrist, Jeff managed to turn and pull out the chip. The cyborg powered down, his arm slumped to the ground and he was suddenly lifeless again.

Jeff gasped for air.

"Wow," he croaked, "that was close. And this chip, it looks just like …"

There was a fizzing noise, and the chip went up in flames.

"What the…?"

"_What happened?"_ Ben asked. _"What was that noise?"_

"No idea, the chip… it self-ignited. It's… destroyed."

"_Ah… dammit. One of **those**. That's disappointing. We could have used his chip."_

"What… what does that mean, what happened?"

"_That means we have to go to the next one and try again."_

"You… you want me to do this again!? But you said you needed a body. What's wrong with this one?"

"_My chip is very special, it got improved by a late friend and can only handle a certain kind of cyborg body. This one's been redesigned for self-destruct, the configuration was slightly changed, so it's worthless to me. Besides, I want my own body back, my own face. And that means we have to find one with my original measurements, then remove his bio shell and regrow it with the bio data that's stored on my chip. This one here is too short. I was 6'3" tall."_

Jeffrey groaned.

"Of all the cyborgs in the world, I must befriend the one who's picky and vain. Why are we here anyway if you didn't want to use his body?"

"_Because we need cyborg CPU's for our project. Also, practice makes perfect. Come on, Jeff, cheer up. The next one will be easier, now that you know what you have to do."_

**-0-**

**Monday, December 15th, 2008 – 08:25 a.m.**

**Casablanca**

"_It's the e-mail,"_ Alistair said in an apologetic tone.

"What e-mail?" Catherine asked. "I didn't receive an e-mail from you before we left L.A."

"_That's right, uh… I sent it the day you took off from Long Beach. I… uh… accidentally sent a copy to your office… I recognized the mistake immediately but figured it would be safe on your PC since it was firewalled."_

"Not firewalled enough for a Triple-Eight, it seems," Sarah remarked sourly.

"_Obviously, Bridger has exploited a vulnerability in the operating system that is currently still unknown,"_ Alistair pointed out. _"It will become known not before 2013."_

"Then let's change that," Catherine said, "I'll talk to Steve in Seattle when I'm back. It can't be that we're working with the most advanced systems in the world, way ahead of their time, and then such a primitive operating system shoots us in the back."

"_It was my fault, though,"_ Alistair pointed out, _"I guess I've been on vacation with my mind already. Instead of only sending it to the C.S.I.S. headquarters, John's loft and Future John's system in Cliffside House, which are part of our shielded network, I also sent it to your office PC. It's an error that shouldn't have happened."_

"In other words," Catherine replied, "you sent it to all the safe places, and then to the only place where it wouldn't be safe: my office."

"We all make mistakes," John intervened, "what was in that e-mail anyway?"

"_The list."_

"What list?" Sarah asked.

"_The most current list of whereabouts of persons who, after an analysis of their social behavior, personal circumstances and family status, are most probably cyborgs. You surely remember that we used to set John Henry on creating that list, don't you?"_

It took a moment to let the news sink in, then everyone palmed their faces and groaned.

"_Sorry…"_ Alistair said again, very meekly.

"Wait, what does that mean?" Derek asked.

"That means," Savannah explained, "that Benjamin Bridger now has a list of names and addresses of all the potential cyborgs in the USA."

"How many of them are on that list?" Alison asked.

_"Seventy-six."_

"So many?" Sarah asked surprised.

_"We assume they came from different timelines. We surely created enough of them in the past, before the time loop began."_

Again, everyone groaned.

"_We have to assume it's mostly Triple-Eights, since they can blend in much better than T-800's."_

"Can we monitor seventy-six cyborgs at the same time without them noticing?" Allie asked.

"Apparently not," Catherine stated. "But maybe Zoe and Norberto can pick out the most likely candidates and visit them. I'll also arrange for John Henry and Porter to help them."

"And then what?" Sarah asked, "Ringing the door bell and say _'Hello, I know you're a cyborg. I'm a cyborg as well. I'm with the good ones, though, and I wanna warn you that a human who's under the influence of a really evil cyborg wants to steal your body'_?"

"_John Henry has already contacted Sonya,"_ Alistair replied, _"and she suggested that we use the hidden message on the news channel to warn them."_

"That's actually good thinking," John said. "We know the hidden message is being watched but so far, it was ignored by the cyborgs."

"Well, except for Guy Rossi," Alison pointed out.

"I tried to forget that episode," John replied.

"Sorry…"

_"We have to assume that none of those cyborgs are immune against electric shocks yet," _Alistair continued,_ "so it would be very easy for Jeffrey Clark to catch them off guard. All he needs is a taser, a knife, a screwdriver and pliers."_

"Any idea where he might strike first?" John asked.

"_Unfortunately not. Assuming they haven't left Texas, many of them are within a day's journey by car. The C.S.I.S. will be sending out surveillance teams who watch the homes of potential cyborgs methodically in concentric circles around Dallas/Fort Worth, gradually increasing the radius. But even at best, it's just a game of chance. But if Jeffrey Clarke strikes somewhere, we can at least draw conclusions about his and Bridger's possible whereabouts."_

"How so?" Sarah asked.

_"I know that the G.A.O.L. leadership had safe houses all over the country as a refuge in emergency situations. Bridger knows about it for sure and will have chosen one of these houses for Clark to stay at. They are likely to remain there for a while. And if the C.S.I.S. hears that one of the Triple-Eights from the list is missing or found disabled, we know that this safe house cannot be too far away. It wouldn't make sense to drive very far, and they cannot take a plane because security cameras and stuff. Unfortunately, most of the data on the safe houses blew up with the G.A.O.L. headquarters, we didn't get a full list before the system crashed. But at least it's a starting point."_

"With a lot of ifs involved," Derek commented.

"_I don't wanna hide the fact that luck will play a big part, yes... and the hope that Clark will make a mistake at some point. We need to find a way to increase the pressure on him. He isn't exactly the person with the strongest nerves, as we know."_

"All right then," Catherine said, "we'll communicate with Sonya and her team directly from now on. You enjoy the rest of your vacation."

"_Thank you, I hope I will."_

"And Alistair?"

"_Yes, Catherine?"_

"We'll talk about this… sloppiness of yours when I'm back."

And with that, she ended the call before Alistair could answer.

"You're evil, honey," Isaak commented, "he'll now rack his brain over what you're going to do with him after he returns. He'll not be able to enjoy his vacation anymore."

Catherine smiled evilly.

"Yes, he knows what I am, so he'll be very nervous. That's the intention. He'll be all the more relieved to learn that there won't be any consequences for him. Alistair is Alistair and he is like that: sometimes thoughtless and a bit sloppy, but a genius. We need him."

"It's an effective psychological trick to ensure his lasting loyalty," Derek commented. "Letting someone stew in their own juices for a while after they screwed up, was also one of Future John's favorite methods. Once they found out they'd just gotten off the hook, they doubled their efforts in the future to patch things up again."

"Future John was a good leader," Catherine agreed.

John preferred not to comment on that.

"Well then," Isaak said, rubbing his hands. "Since everyone seems to be finished with breakfast, I think it's time for some sightseeing."

**-0-**

**_Monday, December 15th, 2008 – 10:49 p.m._**

**_Day 26 of our voyage_**

_It's been a fun day, an interesting day… and also kind of a weird day. I wouldn't have expected a city in an Islamic country in northern Africa to be so… open and modern. So… tolerant and laid back. You could see women all covered up in burkas and women going in jeans and t-shirts, with their hair open, and nobody had a problem with it whatsoever. As long as you don't show too much skin, it will be tolerated._

_We met a stockbroker in a grey suit at the mosque who told us that he uses his scooter to drive to the mosque every day in his lunch break to pray there. He didn't see any contradiction between his western-style profession at the stock exchange and his religious beliefs. It was fascinating talking to him. Communication was a bit difficult, though, since almost nobody here speaks English. They all speak French and Arabian. But fortunately, Isaak speaks French fluently, and Catherine and the cyborg girls also translated for us from Arabic._

_The Hassan II Mosque is really magnificent. It's huge, and I mean really huge. Eighty thousand people can fit into the forecourt, twenty-five thousand can gather for prayer inside. A monument of faith, like St. Peter's in Rome or other monumental Christian churches. The highlight is that it has a retractable roof which can be opened to let the sun shine in. Very impressive. It's located directly at the ocean and the children used its outer wall to jump into the water from there. I've never experienced so much fun and laughter near a Christian church in my life. There, everything is so serious and solemn. We even saw people surfing at the beach, boys and girls alike, only a stone's throw away from the mosque. It somehow reminded me of Los Angeles, but less superficial and not so focused on status symbols. _

_When I expressed my astonishment that there were Muslim girls and women in wet suits on the beach, our stockbroker just shrugged his shoulders. The one had nothing to do with the other, he said. You can pray and still surf. I would wish this form of pragmatism for the rest of the world as well. The following stroll through the city quickly turned into a shopping spree. I don't know why we buy so many clothes when we barely wear them anyway. I think it's the process of shopping itself that we women enjoy most. By the way, we now all own kaftans…_

_Of course, the men were less enthusiastic about it and quickly separated themselves from us. Cam, Alison and Emily stayed with John of course. As much as they have evolved, their basic instinct is still to stay with John to protect him. I don't know if it will last forever, but I've been wondering for some time what will happen if John just wants to be alone for a while? Or just alone with Morris, Danny, Jason or Kevin? The four of them are all computer nerds. Boys will be boys. How will the three girls react when they suddenly only play second fiddle for a change? _

_Downtown Casablanca is dominated by modern office buildings and French Art Nouveau architecture. Surprisingly, the city has a very modern public transportation system. The futuristic-looking trams and their network are something I'd wish for Los Angeles. Of course, the impressions suddenly changed when we entered the ancient medina, the historic old town of Casablanca. It felt like we had suddenly travelled back in time, with shops and stands everywhere and craftsmen plying their trade out in the streets. Modern times and ancient traditions, it doesn't have to be a contradiction. _

_By the way, there's one thing that struck me particularly: Life here takes place on the streets, in public. While we are bunkered behind the walls of our houses and in air-conditioned shopping centers, there is a hustle and bustle everywhere here. You don't retreat so much into your private sphere, but stay in the public eye, even if you're doing your job. Shoemakers, bakers, tailors and all other craftsmen practice their profession in shops and workshops that are open to the street, and into which everyone can look. There are street cafés everywhere, and each and every one of them is full of people._

_At dinner, John told us about Rick's Café, which actually looks like in the movie Casablanca, only in color, including ceiling fans and a dark-skinned piano player. Apparently, somebody has gone to great lengths to build it that way. Only smoking isn't allowed there. Somehow I find it hard to imagine Rick's Café without the fog of cigarette smoke. To everyone's surprise, Alison hadn't watched the movie 'Casablanca' yet, so fortunately, she couldn't get on anyone's nerves by constantly reciting quotes from the film._

_Today I learned that the world is even more complex and versatile than I thought. But thinking about it, it somehow mirrors what's going on in our Christian societies – there are countries that are modern and open, and countries that are still trapped in antiquated beliefs and traditions. I think it's the same with Islamic countries, and since we always get only the bad news from all over the world, the good things just fall by the wayside and you don't notice them, unless you go out and explore the world yourself in all its diversity - as we do at the moment. I've seen lots of artists and creative people here. When we're leaving, I'll leave Casablanca with the impression of an open, cosmopolitan city where everybody is welcome, and everybody can find their place. _

_Tomorrow we'll make an excursion to Marrakesh. Isaak has organized a bus for us all. The trip will take three hours in each direction, so we'll have breakfast earlier than usual to have enough time to explore the city. The 'Rising Star' will put to sea again in the night to Wednesday. We follow a tight schedule now, because it's ten days till Christmas and we want to spend it at a place with snow._

_P.S.: I still haven't found out what project they're working on at night… They now refuse to answer questions about it, saying they wanna show it when it's finished – whenever that may be._

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 16th, 2008 – 10:22 a.m.**

**Marrakesh**

It took them just under three hours by bus to cover the 240 kilometers from Casablanca to Marrakesh. The route led over the almost continuously four-lane motorway A7 and was surprisingly comfortable and unspectacular. The scenery reminded everyone strongly of Southern California, with a mixture of agricultural and desert-like landscapes. The driver, a local who spoke English very well, parked the bus on a special bus parking lot outside the medina of Marrakesh.

"Are we in the Sahara yet?" Lauren asked after they gathered outside and looked around.

"No," Emily replied, "The Sahara begins behind the Atlas Mountains in the East."

She pointed to a mountain range in the distance, whose peaks were covered with snow.

"I didn't know they had snow in Africa," Jody remarked. "I always thought it's either desert, steppe or jungle."

"Then this trip around the world seems to be just the thing to broaden your horizons," Isaak replied smiling. "Geography has always been a passion of mine."

"In that case, enlighten us with your knowledge," Sarah said with a smirk, "what's to see in Marrakesh?"

"Well, the city has a lot to offer," Isaak answered, "there are mosques, palaces, gardens, souks…"

"I think we can skip the mosques," Derek remarked, "I suppose nothing here can beat the one we saw in Casablanca."

"Right… Palaces, gardens and souks then."

"What's a souk?" Lauren asked.

"A traditional Arabian street marketplace," Cameron replied. "You know, food stands, traders, craftsmen, all doing their trade in the streets… It's usually narrow, loud, chaotic, and full of people."

"It offers a glimpse of the life in Morocco from hundreds of years ago," Catherine explained.

"And it's about the worst thing that can happen when it comes to security considerations," Emily added.

"Always thinking about security," Isaak complained and rolled his eyes. "Relax for a change, nobody knows us here or has any idea that we're currently in Morocco. Besides, who has an interest in threatening us, hm? The only one I can think of, is Benjamin Bridger, and he's thousands of miles away."

"As far as we know," Alison pointed out, "it's never a bad idea to play it safe. The three of us and Catherine should form a perimeter around you just to be sure. The city is certainly full of pickpockets and organized gangs of thieves."

"That's actually a good idea," Catherine agreed.

Isaak sighed.

"You're hopeless. All right, have it your way then."

* * *

On their way through the city, the three cyborg girls and Catherine always ensured that the group was effectively protected by remaining on the fringe. Just like bodyguards, they were securing them in all four directions - inconspicuously but effectively. Of course that meant that John and Isaak were on their own, while all the other couples were walking arm in arm, holding hands or had their arms wrapped around each other. Savannah and Allie recognized John's dissatisfaction with the situation and decided to stay by his side. Purely amicable, of course, without any advances or ulterior motives - that issue really seemed to have been finally resolved. Hence, Isaak was the only man without a female companion at the moment, but he didn't seem to have a problem with it, because he was much too busy playing the tour guide.

"The Majorelle Garden was created by the French Orientalist artist, Jacques Majorelle over almost forty years, starting in 1923," he said while they were walking through the lush green of one of the many famous gardens of Marrakesh. "That Cubist villa over there was designed by the French architect, Paul Sinoir in the 1930s. The property was the residence of the artist and his wife from 1923 until their divorce in the 1950s. In the 1980s, the property was purchased by the fashion designers, Yves Saint-Laurent and Pierre Bergé who worked to restore it. Today, the garden and villa complex is open to the public. The villa houses the Islamic Art Museum of Marrakesh, and the Berber Museum."

"How come you know so many details about Marrakesh?" Sarah asked with a frown. "And don't tell me you read books about it before."

"As a film producer, you often travel the world, accompanying the scouting of film locations. Many Hollywood films were and are being shot in Morocco, and it's good when the filmmakers are familiar with the history and culture of the respective locations. Apart from that, I've always had a passion for beautiful gardens."

He received doubtful looks in return.

"Okay, okay," he admitted grinning, "I also might have studied Wikipedia before we went here."

"Yeah, it shows," John said with a smile as he looked into Isaak's grinning face.

"So, where to next, Mister Lonely Planet?" Anne asked.

Jesse rolled her eyes.

"What's the hurry? It's beautiful here, let's enjoy it for a little while."

"I've never been a big fan of educational holidays," Anne admitted, "and the endless explanations of tour guides with their monotonous facts and figures that sound like they're coming from a tape, have always bored me. I prefer to explore places alone and in my own way."

"Don't be such a spoilsport," Danny admonished her, "this is really interesting, and Isaak is doing a great job."

Anne sighed.

"Cling together, swing together," she said in a resigned tone.

* * *

After leaving the Majorelle Garden, they entered the bus again and drove to the other end of the old town to visit Bahia Palace, once home to the Grand Vizier of the Sultan. From there, they started exploring the medina.

Cameron was especially intrigued because Marrakesh is known for its traditional leather tanneries. Everyone could see that she was tempted to buy lots and lots of leatherware. She could only be prevented with difficulty from buying whole shops empty. In the end she had five leather jackets, four knee-high leather boots and three leather handbags. Thankfully, Emily and Alison had developed a different taste in clothing together with their new bodies.

"What do you need more handbags for?" John asked bemused. "You hardly ever wear one, saying it's impractical if someone's attacking us."

"I might have use for it when our lives settled down," she replied, "also, isn't it what people expect when they see women walking around? It's about blending in, John."

"Yeah, right," John remarked and winked at her. "But I know that besides lipstick and eyeliner, you're probably going to carry your Glock in it."

"And why not? Besides, the stuff here is a real bargain. It'll be a lot more expensive at home."

"She's right, you know," Alison stated.

"Oh, yeah… right…" John replied sarcastically. "We have to pay _so much_ attention to our expenses. God forbid that we go shopping in expensive Los Angeles... We could be ruined in… oh, I don't know… three or four thousand years, if we go on spending money like that."

"You're not getting it, John," Savannah said. "Don't you want to buy a souvenir, too? Maybe a shisha, there's a shop over there. Would fit nicely into the loft, don't you agree? Think about it, we have a ship, we don't need to board a plane to bring all the stuff back."

"Then why not a huge carpet, or a stuffed camel?"

"Now you're being silly, John. Besides, we should wait with carpets until we reached the Persian Gulf. Oh, wait… look, they're selling kaftans over there."

John rolled his eyes as Savannah and Allie ran from shop to shop. In the end, all the women bought new leather handbags and more clothes. The men couldn't prevent the women from buying lots of new leather belts for them as well. As a matter of fact, they had to bring the shopping bags back to the bus before they could continue their city tour. And to not draw attention as well as adding insult to injury, the men had to carry them.

"You've already done a lot of shopping in Casablanca yesterday," Charley pointed out after everything had been safely stored. "If you go on like this, the yacht's gonna be overloaded and will capsize. This is our honeymoon, not a shopping spree."

"Why can't it be both?" Sarah replied grinning.

"I'll remind you of this when I want to buy something for myself in the future."

"Please do, honey. I want to know where your passions and preferences lie."

"Careful, Sarah," Derek warned, "in the end, he's dragging you into Home Depot for a day. Or to a model railway convention."

"By now you should know that do-it-yourself is no stranger to me. I'm not a girlie woman. And I actually like model railways."

"It's getting late," Isaak stated and looked at his watch. We should be back on board before midnight. And we still have to visit the Jemaa el-Fnaa."

"Gesundheit!" Derek said with a grin.

Everyone rolled their eyes over his attempt to make a joke.

"Even I know that square," Jody stated. "It was in many movies. It's the main marketplace in the medina."

"It's also a UNESCO world heritage site now," Emily pointed out.

"But you can't expect Derek to know that," Alison argued.

"Right," Emily agreed.

Derek just glared at them.

"We also need to have dinner," Isaak added. "I reserved a table at a traditional Moroccan restaurant for eight o'clock."

"Well, what are we waiting for then?" Catherine asked. "Let's go to that famous square."

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 16th, 2008 – 11:43 a.m.**

**Oklahoma City**

Sonya Hawkins and Zoe Kruger slowly approached the address they were given. It was a quiet suburb of the upper middle class. But they didn't even have to look for house numbers, because their destination was already visible from a distance by half a dozen police cars and even more broadcast vans from television stations. Sonya groaned.

"Didn't we impose a gag order?"

"Yup," Zoe replied from behind the wheel, "but that's never stopped the media from pursuing a story. Probably they have informants at the local police department who tipped them off."

"Hopefully they could at least keep their fingers off the body."

"Yes, hopefully. But it looks like you're gonna have to play the drill sergeant again."

"They will be reasonable… if they value their jobs."

Zoe parked their car about fifty meters away from the police perimeter, they got out and quickly walked towards the house. It didn't take the camera teams long to recognize the two. Ever since the press conference after the attack on G.A.O.L, Sonya Hawkins and Zoe Kruger had become some kind of national celebrities, recognized experts on cyborgs and how to confront them. There were hundreds of interview requests, but of course they were all rejected. Sonya wondered how people would react if they learned that Zoe Kruger was a cyborg herself.

They struggled to make their way through the wall of reporters and cameramen, ignoring the questions that pelted on them, until they finally reached the cordoned-off area and ducked under the barrier tape to get inside, showing their badges to the first officer they encountered.

"Sonya Hawkins, C.S.I.S., who's in charge of this mess?"

"Uh…" the officer reacted perplexed, "Lieutenant Verena Gottberg. She's inside, waiting for your arrival, ma'am."

Sonya and Zoe left him standing without another word and walked straight towards the front porch. They climbed the three stairs and entered. It was one of those houses where the front door led directly into the living room. They were shocked when they saw that the police and forensics had spread all over the house and apparently treated it like a crime scene.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" Sonya asked loudly.

Everyone was turning around to look where that voice had come from. A middle-aged, African-American woman stepped forward.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Sonya Hawkins, C.S.I.S., and this is my partner, Zoe Kruger." They both held up their badges again. "Are you Verena Gottberg?"

"Yes, I'm Lieutenant Verena Gottberg, I'm in charge of…"

"Not anymore. And if you keep messing things up, you also won't be Lieutenant for much longer. What in the devil's name has gotten into you, treating this like a crime scene, even after we'd already been informed?"

"I thought it…"

"You obviously thought wrong! You know the protocol for such cases, don't you? The location is to be sealed off, any access for unauthorized personnel - that's you and the other clowns in here - is forbidden until the C.S.I.S. arrives. What part of it didn't you get?"

The lieutenant gasped for air a few times like a fish on dry land. The other cops in the room stared at Sonya in bafflement, unable to believe how she gave their boss hell like that.

"If you let me finish," Lieutenant Gottberg tried again, barely keeping her composure, "then I'd tell you that we followed the protocol. But somehow the press got wind of it, and we had to come up with something. So I decided to give the impression that this was a common murder case, also to prevent them from entering the house."

"Good idea, badly executed," Sonya commented and passed her by to kneel next to the body. "The street is full of broadcast vans. It's going to be hard to take the body away with such a mob outside the door."

"I already organized a hearse," the Lieutenant replied, hardly able to keep her temper, "The body will be put into a coffin and then it can be driven to where you want to have it."

Sonya got up and looked at the Lieutenant.

"So you're able to think after all. Nice. The only problem is that Zoe and I have been seen. The reporters aren't stupid, they can put one and one together and will quickly realize that this isn't a normal murder victim." She looked at Zoe. "Triple-Eight?"

"Yes," Zoe replied. "The chip is missing."

"Dammit!"

"Uh… we found this here," Lieutenant Gottberg stated and held up a plastic bag with the charred remains of the chip in it."

Zoe took it and sighed.

"Self-destruct," she said.

Sonya looked at the Lieutenant.

"What can you tell us? Have there been any witnesses, someone who can describe the perp?"

Verena Gottberg shook her head.

"No, it must have happened during the night. The next door neighbor, a Violetta Bobey, found the body in the morning and called the police."

"Where is Miss Bobey? Has she been briefed yet?"

"We told her to stay in her house and talk to nobody. One of my officers is keeping her company to make sure she doesn't call someone and doesn't go online."

"Very good. We'll talk to her when we're ready here. What can you tell us about the victim?"

"He, uh… went under the name Herman Bressmer, worked as a carpenter. A loner, always friendly but distant. His boss raves about his craftsmanship but he obviously wasn't the social type. Several people reported that animals didn't like him. No wonder, because he wasn't human, was he?"

"I think that's more than obvious," Zoe replied. "What role does that neighbor play? Is she a friend of his?"

"Well… from what we gathered, she at least tried to be. She's divorced and apparently tried to hit on him. Without any success, as it seems. She's still in shock. How can that be? I mean… he's a machine, right? A cyborg. How could he live here for seven years without anybody noticing?"

"They can be quite convincing," Sonya replied. "They were designed to infiltrate human communities. We don't know why he was sent here originally, but obviously he did what he came for and then decided to build himself a life, become a valuable member of society. And now he got murdered."

"Murdered? But…"

"Oh, it _is_ murder, make no mistake," Zoe interrupted her. "There's a point where they develop their own consciousness and are no longer controlled by their original programming. Self-awareness and the ability to do things they haven't been programmed to do, is the first step towards becoming alive. We will never know how far developed Herman Bressmer already was, but it was obviously enough to fool his neighbors, his employer and his colleagues. The man who removed the chip, prevented him from becoming more. He killed him. It _was _murder."

The Lieutenant gulped, wondering why Zoe Kruger became so wound up on this. After all, it was just a machine and machines didn't have a soul, right? Then she hesitated.

"Wait a second… you sound as if you already know the perp?"

"I guess we do," Sonya replied, "and now we have a reason to start a manhunt. Zoe, call the FBI and the DHS, we're putting out an APB on Jeffrey Clark for murder. Let's see if he makes any mistakes when we put the screws on him."

"Who's Jeffrey Clark?" Lieutenant Gottberg asked.

"You don't need to know," Sonya replied, then looked at Zoe. "Is Catherine's TV program already active with our special _'news bulletin'_?"

"Yes… but we don't know if they'll believe it or react to it. Nobody ever replied to it before. Except Guy Rossi, of course. But he faked his interest, as we know. "

"Let's see if they also ignore it when we announce that there's a killer on the loose, hunting down cyborgs to steal their chips and bodies."

In that moment, an officer entered the room.

"Ma'am," he addressed the Lieutenant, "the hearse is here. Should they bring the coffin inside?"

"Yes," Sonya replied, then looked at Verena Gottberg, "your plan may not have worked but maybe we can get at least rid of the reporters that way."

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 16th, 2008 – 05:46 p.m.**

**Marrakesh**

The Jemaa el-Fnaa was crowded, loud and chaotic. The famous central market square of Marrakesh was full of jugglers, beggars, snake charmers, flying merchants, musicians and of course shop and food stands. The air was filled with exotic smells, and the cacophony of sounds and noises blended with the medley of many languages, because naturally, this world-famous place was Marrakesh's main attraction and therefore the number one destination for tourists from all over the world.

"Don't try to make a selfie with those jugglers," Isaak advised them, "they want to be paid for it and can become quite aggressive and demanding."

"Even more aggressive than these?" Sarah asked who was busy shooing half a dozen children away who wanted dollars from her.

"This is the most chaotic place I've ever seen," Sydney declared. "But I love it. It's so full of life, so vibrant. You really feel like you've traveled back in time for a few hundred years."

They stopped for a while to watch a snake charmer. A little further ahead, a man in a dervish costume slowly danced himself into ecstasy to the hypnotic sounds of a small group of musicians. They were constantly approached by flying merchants who were pushing goods into their faces they should buy, but the group politely refused everything. One thing was for sure: once you were identified as a tourist, you really had to defend your skin here, because when you were dressed in Western style, you were constantly pressed from all sides. Even the cyborg girls' death stare couldn't change that.

More than once the group was separated for a few moments, but the three girls and Catherine always managed to bring them together again. Finally, they stopped in front of a blind, old man who sat on the ground on a carpet, surrounded by children. They all listened in awe, as he was obviously telling them stories.

"What's he saying?" John asked.

"Apparently, he's telling stories from _One Thousand and One Nights_. At the moment, he's reciting _Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves_."

Even without understanding Arabic, they could tell that the old man was a brilliant storyteller. They listened for a while, with Emily, Alison and Cameron translating into English simultaneously. Even Catherine listened with fascination.

"He takes some artistic liberties," remarked Cameron, "it's not a literal account of the story as it was written down. But he really manages to captivate everyone and..."

Suddenly she stopped talking and sprinted after a little boy who ran away and tried to disappear in the crowd. Everyone stared at her in bewilderment.

"What's going on now?" Sarah asked surprised.

"My wallet!" Derek exclaimed. "It's gone!"

They all felt their pockets and clothes, but it turned out that Derek was the only one who had been robbed.

"Son of a bitch!" he cursed.

"Cam must have seen it," John remarked, "we were all too transfixed on the storyteller."

After a moment, Cameron reappeared from the crowd, dragging a boy with her who was maybe ten years old. He was shouting and cursing at her but to no avail, he couldn't get free.

"Lemme go, you daughter of a desert whore!" he shouted in Arabic. "May the spirits of the dead haunt you for all eternity!"

"Shut up, you little street rat!" Cameron replied in perfect Arabic. "I saw exactly how you stole Derek's wallet."

The boy fell silent and looked at her in amazement, obviously not expecting an American tourist to speak perfect Arabic. Cameron held the stolen wallet out to Derek. He took it and looked inside.

"It's all still in there," he reported.

"What shall I do with the boy?" Cameron asked.

"Let him go," Sarah said. "Somehow I doubt it would do any good to call the police."

"You're probably right," John agreed. "Cam, let him go."

She bent down to the boy and spoke to him in Arabic again. Then she let her eyes glow red for a moment while staring at him threateningly. The boy screamed out loud and looked absolutely terrified. She let him go and he ran away, disappearing in the crowd. They'd never seen a boy run so fast.

"What did you say to him?" Derek asked.

"I told him if I ever catch him again, I'll rip his arms off."

"Well… he seems to have believed your bluff."

Cameron looked at Derek with a puzzled face.

"What bluff?"

Everyone was staring at her, then she smiled broadly.

"Fooled you again!"

Everyone groaned but were basically relieved that things had turned out so smoothly. The boy would certainly not forget that day so quickly. They decided to leave the spot with the storyteller and stroll around the rest of the market. Catherine looked around and frowned.

"Where's Isaak?" she asked.

Alarmed by her question, everyone else was looking around as well.

"He was with us when we started listening to the storyteller," Sarah stated. "He must still be around here somewhere."

"Haven't you noticed him going away, Alison?" John asked.

"Not consciously, John, but my scanners are always active in a 360 degree radius. I can replay the scanning results of the last fifteen minutes."

"Please do so."

Alison stood motionless for a moment and closed her eyes. After about five seconds, she opened them up again.

"Bad news," she said, "I'm afraid Isaak has been kidnapped."

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 16th, 2008 – 12:07 p.m.**

**Oklahoma City**

The coffin was carried outside and loaded into the hearse. When it drove off, all of the broadcast vans followed it.

"Good, at least that worked," Sonya commented. "But not for long. Zoe, you stay here with the body, I'm going to call our own transport service while I go over to the neighbor to ask her some questions."

"Will do," Zoe replied, and Sonya left the house.

"Phew," Lieutenant Gottberg said, "and I thought my captain was hard to please. Is she always like that?"

Zoe smiled.

"She's more bark than bite, to be honest. Once you get to know her and she's convinced that you're doing a good job, she quickly becomes tame. She used to be a drill sergeant with the Marines."

"It definitely shows. So, what was really going on here? Or can't you tell me? Why are we putting an APB out on the murder of a cyborg?"

"Nobody will mention a cyborg, this will be a classic murder chase. We know the perp and we also know that he's not going to react well to that. Maybe this way we can force him into making mistakes."

"I heard everything about those cyborgs on the news of course, but you're actually working with them, right?"

Zoe just smiled in reply.

"How are they?" Lieutenant Gottberg pressed, "I mean, those, uh.. girls… what is it like to work with them? They've become national heroes but what are they like, really?"

"Very pleasant. Very nice. Very considerate and always working in the interest of mankind."

"That's what the media says as well."

"And you won't get to hear more from me. They're friends, not only on a personal level, but also for all humanity. I'm sorry but I can't tell you more."

The lieutenant nodded.

"I see. So, what's going to happen to the body?"

"A van will arrive in a couple of minutes, the body will be loaded in there and then we'll bring it to a safe location."

"Safe? Safe from who?"

"Safe from greedy hands, like the industry and the military for instance. But also from the government. Many would like to get their hands on a cyborg, but that can't be allowed, for the very well-known reasons."

"There's a lot going on the public doesn't know about, right?"

"No comment."

"I see."

* * *

"He was so… manly," Violetta Bobey, a woman in her mid-forties, told Sonya while the two were sitting in her living room. "I mean, there was something… primal about him. And it attracted me."

Sonya nodded.

"Understandable. Did he have any friends?"

"Not that I know of. He was a loner, keeping to himself. But he was always friendly, always helpful when I needed someone to help me with repairs or garden work. He never seemed to tire."

She sniffed and dried some tears on her face.

"Why were you at his house so early in the morning?"

"I wanted to bring him a pumpkin pie. He loved those."

"Did he now?" Sonya asked, suppressing a smile because all those pies had probably landed directly in the trash.

"Yes… he repeatedly told me so. Who does such a thing? I mean… he had a hole in his head. Who does something like that?"

"A very dangerous person. Did you notice anything odd about the body?"

"No… I… I was shocked… and I ran back to my house to call the police. I haven't been in there since then."

"So, you didn't examine the body?"

"What? No, of course not. I know a dead body when I see one… lifeless, eyes open, staring blankly. And I know that nothing must be touched. I watch CSI, you know…"

"I see. Well, thank you for your time, Miss Bobey."

"I hope you find the killer and that he'll rot in prison for the rest of his life!"

Sonya smiled and rose again.

"Yeah, I'm sure that justice will be served."

* * *

"So, she didn't realize he wasn't human?" Zoe asked when Sonya had returned to Bressmer's house.

"No, and now she'll never know."

The van had arrived, and the body was being loaded into it by several members of former team JUHCY, now part of the C.S.I.S. Sonya turned towards Lieutenant Gottberg.

"I suppose you're aware of the fact that absolutely everything that's happened here today, is strictly confidential, and that you and your colleagues are forbidden to talk about it? Infringements are punishable by long prison sentences."

"Yes, we all got the speech," Verena Gottberg replied.

"Good. Keep up the good work, lieutenant. Then nothing stands in the way of a successful career."

And with that, Sonya and Zoe left, leaving a flabbergasted Lieutenant Gottberg behind.

"There's one thing I don't understand," Sonya said as they walked back to their car. We know that Bridger is looking for a new body. Why didn't he take that one?"

"That's a good question," Zoe replied, "I've been asking myself the same thing."

"And?"

"My guess is he's looking for a specific type of Triple-Eight, one of the old ones without the self-destruct feature."

"Aren't they all the same?"

"Basically, yes. But there have been minor changes. The self-destructing chip has a slightly different configuration. Catherine found out about it while examining Porter's chip. Older chips won't fit into the slot, and we know that Bridger is one of the older Triple-Eights."

"So... this means Clark's going down the list, randomly killing off cyborgs until he's found the right body for Bridger?"

"I guess that's what it means. Unless we somehow stop them."

Sonya sighed.

"And I thought I already had enough paperwork."

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 16th, 2008 – 06:16 p.m.**

**Marrakesh**

"Kidnapped? What do you mean, kidnapped? I thought you were here to protect us!"

"Calm down, Sarah," Catherine appeased. "I didn't notice it as well, so I'm also to blame."

"But you don't have her oh so brilliant, ever-watching magical sensors!"

"Can we bicker later, please?" John intervened and turned to Alison. "What can you tell us?"

"It happened when we were distracted by the pickpocket," she replied. "We were all concentrating on the boy, then two men approached from behind very quickly. They gave Isaak an injection into the neck that made him collapse immediately. Then they swiftly carried him away and shoved him into a small minivan that was waiting over there, while Cam was still talking to the boy."

"So, they drugged him?" Derek asked.

"Yes, with a strong anesthetic, I presume."

"Can you follow their trail?" Catherine asked.

"I hope so," Alison replied, "but we should act quickly now."

Catherine nodded.

"Very well, you and I are going to follow the trail of the minivan. Cameron and Emily can try to find the boy, maybe he was involved in the plot and only there to distract us."

"I'm going with them," John stated.

"We'll also be accompanying you," Savannah added, and everyone nodded.

"No," Catherine objected, "don't get me wrong but you would only slow us down. "If I understand it right, time is a critical factor, and the trail is getting weaker every second, right?"

Alison nodded.

"Yes, the heat traces as well as the pheromone trail are quickly dissipating with so many people around."

Without wasting any more words, the two ran off and followed the invisible trail of the minivan.

"I know the direction the boy ran into," Cameron stated. "If he really is a thief that robs tourists, he'll still be around here somewhere, trying to steal from other people. Emily and I can track him down."

"Yeah, if you haven't scared him to death and made him run home to mommy," Derek remarked.

"John," Cameron said, ignoring Derek, "I insist that you accompany us, we need to keep you protected as long as we don't know what's behind this."

"Oh, so _he_ is not slowing you down, eh?" Sarah asked sourly. "He needs to be protected by cyborgs, but we don't?"

"No, you don't need cyborg protection," Emily replied matter-of-factly. "Our priority is to protect John, you should know that by now. In case of an attack, you have enough trained fighters at your side. For Catherine and Alison, speed is crucial. It's less time-critical to find the boy, so John can come with us."

"She's right, baby," Charley said, "Let them do it alone. We cannot look for the boy with a group of seventeen people. With four Terminators chasing them, I already feel pity for the kidnappers."

"And what are we supposed to do in the meantime?" Sarah asked, still a bit agitated. "Just standing around, doing nothing?"

"Why don't you go to one of the rooftop cafés overlooking the square?" John suggested. "There, the Café Argana looks nice. You can sit on the balcony, have a cuppa and enjoy the view while you wait for us to return."

"John's right," Savannah agreed. "Standing here wouldn't do anything good. Let them do what they can do best: finding people. We'd only be in the way with that."

Reluctantly, Sarah agreed, and the group headed towards the café that John had suggested.

"Okay, what now?" he asked.

"That way," Cameron said and started walking at a quick pace, making her way through the crowd, with John and Emily following her.

* * *

"I didn't want to say it in front of the group," Catherine stated as they were running through the narrow streets of the city, "but Sarah is right on one point: what good are your superior sensors and scanners if they fail at the crucial moment?"

"I'm a living being, I can be distracted," Alison justified herself. "My scanners work all the time of course, but I don't always consciously perceive their data. I have to filter things out."

"So, you're not always paying attention to your scanners and sensors?"

"Correct. It's too much data to process in realtime, even for my quantum CPU. Remember, I'm using a TOK-700 chip to control a TOL-900 body. The original CPU could have handled it in realtime."

"I see. But the data from your scanners and sensors is still being stored?"

"Yes, for five hours. I can access it in a special set of memory banks before it's being overwritten, like a library of sorts. That's the compromise Future Cameron had to make in order to make her chip work with this body."

"I see."

"Nevertheless, the kidnappers used exactly the moment where nobody looked into their direction. The distraction worked perfectly."

"Yes, even I must admit that it was very cleverly arranged. That is, if the boy was actually part of the plan."

"We have to assume that. My guess is that the kidnappers followed us all day, waiting for the right moment. But they noticed that we were very vigilant, so they decided to create a distraction."

"Yes, that is my assumption as well. And I feel complicit in his disappearance."

"You are worried about Isaak."

"Of course, I am. He's my husband, I love him."

"What do you think is the reason for his kidnapping?"

"Money, I suppose. Can't think of another reason offhand."

"That would mean they'll let him live."

"Not what I'm planning to do when I find them."

Suddenly, Alison stopped running.

"There," she said and pointed towards a parking lot, "the minivan."

They approached the vehicle, an older Toyota Hiace.

"Nobody inside," Alison stated.

"Did they leave on foot?"

"No… they changed vehicles. I can sense no pheromone trail."

"How does that work? Do you follow their scent, like a detection dog?"

"Yes, only more sophisticated. The dog only uses its nose, I use my whole skin surface. That's also a reason why I normally wear as little clothes as possible. But please don't tell John, he thinks I'm doing it to turn him on."

"My lips are sealed. Can you say where they went?"

"They parked next to another vehicle. Since I have no sensor data of it, I cannot say what kind of vehicle it was or what its heat signature looks like. Too many cars park in a very tight space here, constantly coming and going."

"Are you telling me you lost the trail?"

"Yes, I'm sorry."

"We should search the vehicle, maybe there is evidence in there."

Alison ripped the door open and went inside.

"I can find the DNA traces of twelve people," she said, "two of them match with the kidnappers and one with Isaak. It seems like the vehicle was stolen, though, and the kidnappers weren't the owners."

"Of course not," Catherine replied. "Looks like we're dealing with professionals here. Anything else?"

"Dirt," Alison replied.

"What dirt?"

"From the soles of their shoes. They carried it into the vehicle with them. The dirt is from today but not from Jemaa el-Fnaa. Based on the chemical residues, I guess it's from a place somewhere near a tannery. We should start looking there."

"Assuming they went back to where they came from."

"It's our only hint at the moment. I have the DNA of the kidnappers, as well as their scent and their heat signature stored. I know how they look like. If we go through the narrow alleyways, I should be able to detect them if they were there, even hours after they left."

"Very well… Then off to the tannery district."

* * *

The little boy lingered at a corner of a house and watched the tourists, looking for the next victim of his pickpocketing skills, when he saw that devilish young woman approaching him with a determined gaze. Fear and panic rose in him, and he ran off in the opposite direction, only to collide with another young woman.

"Not so fast, young man," Emily said in Arabic, "we just want to talk to you."

He recognized her and the young man accompanying her, they belonged to the group he had been told to distract.

"I did nothing," he hastily said, "I gave it all back, I swear! Please, don't rip off my arms!"

"We just want to know on whose behalf you acted," Cameron said.

"What? What do you mean? I'm acting alone, I'm an orphan, I steal to live."

Emily and Cameron each took turns translating for John into English while they talked to the boy. Emily eyed him suspiciously, her hand keeping a tight grip on his arm.

"You're lying," she said and let her eyes glow red, just as Cameron had earlier.

The boy started hyperventilating and tried to pull himself free, but to no avail.

"We want to know who told you to distract us," John said, and Emily translated for him. "Who hired you?"

"Nobody!"

"You're lying again," Emily stated.

"HELP!" the boy shouted, obviously trying to attract attention. "I'M BEING ASSAULTED!"

But in the hustle and bustle of the busy market, nobody paid any attention to him. Some locals looked at the scene and grinned, obviously knowing the boy and what he does, not very eager to intervene on his behalf.

"Maybe we should go somewhere where his screams can't be heard," Cameron suggested.

"Good idea," Emily replied.

"Over there," Cameron said, and they walked towards an open door in one of the houses that surrounded the square, dragging the boy with them.

They entered, and it turned out to be a hardware store with shelves full of tools.

"As-salāmu ʿalaykum, how can I help you?" an elderly man behind the counter welcomed them.

"You can help us by coming back in five minutes while we question this little thief," Cameron said.

The elderly man looked at the boy, and his smiling face turned into one of disdain.

"I know him," he said, "He's one of Kazim's boys."

"Kazim?"

"The head of an organized gang of thieves. And more. They bring us all into disrepute. Bad for business. If you wanna question him a little harder, I won't stop you. I, uh... I've got something cooking in the kitchen, if you know what I mean. I just have to check on it, will be back in, oh... ten minutes. Will that do?"

"That'll be enough, thank you," Emily replied.

The old man made sure that the front door was closed and locked before passing through a pearl curtain into the back of the house, leaving Emily, John and Cameron alone with the boy.

"He's not exactly a fan of yours," Cameron remarked smugly. "I don't think there are many people here who'd help you."

"Lemme go!"

"So… you work for somebody named Kazim?" Emily asked. "Tell us more about him."

"I don't know what the old man is talking about, everyone knows he's crazy!" the boy replied stubbornly.

Emily grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up on her outstretched arm. The boy's eyes widened.

"This isn't a conversation," she stated coldly, "maybe you're afraid of this Kazim but believe me, he's the least of your worries right now."

"He'll kill me if I talk!"

"And we will kill you if you don't!"

"Cam, Emily," John said and cleared his throat, "he's just a kid, maybe we should do it a little differently?" He turned towards the boy. "What's your name?"

"Moulay."

"Well, Moulay, if you cooperate with us, we'll make sure that Kazim won't kill you."

Cameron translated for him.

"You can't protect me from him!" he replied. "You're Americans, you'll be gone tomorrow!"

"Believe me," Emily replied coldly, "if Kazim has anything to do with the kidnapping, he won't live long enough to harm you."

To emphasize her words, she reached for a heavy wrench from the shelf next to her and squashed it between her fingers. The boy, still dangling from Emily's arm, looked at it in shock.

"You can't be human," he gasped, "what are you? Demons?"

"We're from Los Angeles," Cameron stated, "maybe you heard of us in the news."

Comprehension formed on the boy's face.

"You… you are… them?" he asked. "Those… robots from the future?"

"Cyborgs," Cameron and Emily corrected in unison.

"Even a thief in Marrakesh has heard of you," John observed and chuckled, "I think it's only now that I realize you're really world famous."

"That was the plan, wasn't it?" Cameron asked.

"Can't argue with that."

"Now," Cameron said and turned her attention back to the boy, "who exactly is this Kazim and where can we find him?"

* * *

"We should have brought our guns," Alison stated as she and Catherine were walking through the narrow streets of the tannery district.

"I don't understand your fixation on firearms. You and I are the deadliest weapons on the planet. We do not need firearms."

"I just like guns… I prefer killing my enemies at a distance."

"Fair enough, but you know as well as I do why we had to leave them on the Rising Star."

"I should have paid more attention."

"We all should have done that. Stop blaming yourself."

"First I failed in interrogating Jeffrey Clark, now I failed in protecting one of us. I'm useless."

"Stop talking like that, Alison! Concentrate on the job! We've been walking these streets for half an hour now, still nothing?"

"No," Alison replied, "but we only covered thirty-seven percent of the area so far."

"True. Unfortunately, we don't have cellphone reception here, so we can't keep the others up to date."

"It's safe to say we won't make it to the restaurant in time, where Isaak has reserved a dinner table for us."

"Also true but not really important. There's food at every corner here, nobody will starve."

"I think mom's mad at me."

"What?"

"The way she looked at me. I could tell."

Catherine groaned.

"Will you please stop that? Nobody of us can do what you can do. Just because even _your_ abilities are sometimes limited, it doesn't mean you've become useless."

"That's also what John said but I feel that…"

She suddenly hesitated and stopped.

"What?" Catherine asked.

"I found the pheromone trail," she stated, looking ahead.

"There you go. I knew you'd find it."

"Something's wrong, though… it's only two trails. Isaak's is missing."

"Which means they must have brought him somewhere else before they returned here."

"Exactly. But they probably drove there, so I won't have a trail."

"I feel like having a little conversation with those guys. What about you?"

"Wouldn't wanna miss it."

"Then let's go."

* * *

John, Cameron, and Emily reached the address Moulay had given them. They were still dragging the boy with them against his will because obviously he was afraid of this Kazim character - apparently some kind of gangster who gave home to orphans, only to train them as thieves and pickpockets. Kazim exercised a strict regimen over his small army of children, with the help of a dozen or so adult helpers who ensured that none of the kids were out of line. Disobedience and betrayal were severely punished. Some of the children disappeared forever after such an "offense".

They stopped in front of one of the biggest tanneries in town. Unlike most of the other tanneries they'd seen, the door wasn't open here. It was obviously a very solid one and locked from the inside, with a small flap in the upper half that functioned as a peephole. Before they could knock, though, Alison and Catherine suddenly came walking towards them from the other direction of the narrow street.

"Well, well, well..." John said smiling, "looks like there are several ways leading to Rome."

"How did you get here?" Catherine asked.

"Found and asked the boy," Cameron replied. "You?"

"Following the pheromone trail of the kidnappers," Alison answered.

"Well then, looks like we're at the right location," John stated and knocked at the door. "I'll let you do the talking. Consider me an observer."

"You're too kind," Catherine replied.

The small flap in the upper half of the door opened and they could partially see someone's face.

"Yes?" a male voice asked.

"We'd like to talk to Kazim," Cameron said.

"Kazim's not available," the man replied and slammed the flap shut again.

"How rude," Emily stated.

John looked at Alison.

"Would you please knock again... this time with vigor?"

"With pleasure, John," Alison replied and mustered the door. "Three inch thick oak wood, embedded in a steel frame. Locked from the inside with steel bolts."

She took a step back, aimed, then kicked at the door. It flew open with a loud BANG, accompanied by the clanging sound of metal bars falling to the ground. A small cloud of dust filled the entrance, as the door had been ripped out of its moorings in the masonry.

"Thank you," John said and motioned for her to enter, "after you."

Alison, Catherine, Cameron and Emily entered, followed by John and the boy. They were greeted by loud, upset voices, and in the next moment half a dozen men, armed with knives and clubs, appeared in the long corridor behind the entrance. They came running towards them with determined expressions on their faces. Ten seconds later, five of them lay on the ground with broken necks. The sixth seemed to consider is options and then decided to turn around and run – only to be stopped by a metal spear that penetrated his chest from behind.

Moulay gaped at the scene with an open mouth and watched in horror as Catherine turned the spear into an arm again.

"You… you killed them…" he gasped.

"I surely hope so," Catherine declared coldly, "nobody kidnaps my husband and lives to tell the tale."

"The kidnappers aren't among them, though," Alison observed and turned to Moulay. "Where is Kazim?"

The boy was in shock and didn't reply. Emily shook him.

"Answer her!"

"He... he's usually in the courtyard. That's where he spends most of his time."

"Let's go," Catherine stated and walked ahead, the others following her.

Moulay hesitated at first. However, after looking at the dead bodies, he ran after them with a mixture of horror and fascination.

* * *

"What's that bloody noise in the hall?" Kazim asked while relaxing in a convenient chair in his courtyard.

It was a pretty place, with a water fountain in the middle and lots of green, almost like a garden. Once upon a time, this had been the place where leather had been tanned in open basins in the ground. But Kazim, a man in his fifties, had developed more lucrative sources of income since then - and less physically demanding ones. He could afford to spend his time lazing around nowadays. The children and the women worked for him and as long as he bribed the chief of police, the authorities would leave him in peace. They limited themselves to giving tourists a half-hearted warning about pickpockets and otherwise remained inactive.

Four armed guards were stationed around the courtyard and two more men stood in front of him, currently in the process of reporting to Kazim. There were also two women and several children present, all looking at each other questioningly when suddenly the noise and shouting from the front part of the house could be heard.

The guard next to the entrance drew his gun and went to check what it was all about. But he didn't get very far. The moment he had disappeared inside the house, he flew back into the courtyard again, as if he was a tennis ball that had bounced off a wall. He landed in the water fountain and broke his neck when colliding with the stone gargoyle in the middle of it.

"Knock, knock!" Catherine stated in Arabic as she entered the courtyard. "I hope we're not intruding, but I'm looking for my husband!"

Behind her, Alison, Cameron and Emily entered the yard as well. John and Moulay remained under cover inside the house for now.

"KILL THEM!" Kazim shouted and two more guards were running towards them, drawing their guns as well.

Catherine impaled them with her arms, which she had turned into spears. She pulled them back and the two men fell dead to the floor. The women and children screamed and ran away into the depths of the house. For a second, Kazim and the three still living men stared at her in shock, then they drew their guns and fired.

"We need those two alive," Alison stated and pointed at the two men next to Kazim while bullets were hitting her and Catherine. "They are the kidnappers."

"Very well," Catherine replied and cut the throat of the forth guard, leaving only Kazim and the kidnappers alive.

They had emptied their magazines completely but of course that didn't have any effect. Catherine turned her index fingers into thin spikes and pierced Kazim's shoulders, effectively nailing him to the backrest of his chair. He screamed out in pain. Cameron and Emily caught the other two men and held them in their iron grip. Now John and Moulay also entered the court. The boy looked at all the dead bodies in horror but didn't say anything.

"I'm not going to ask you twice," Catherine said. "Why have you kidnapped my husband and where have you brought him?"

"Are you sure I shouldn't simply use my chemical messengers?" Alison asked.

"Where's the fun in that?" Catherine asked, apparently extremely pissed, and tilted her head while smiling evilly at Kazim. "You can still do that when the pain alone isn't enough to make him talk."

"I'll talk, I'll talk!" Kazim said hastily, betraying himself a coward.

"Hey, you okay?" John asked and looked at his three wives.

"We're okay," the three answered in unison.

"But the idiot Cam is holding, he shot me in the right breast," Emily complained. "I hope we brought a pair of pliers long enough to pull the bullet out."

John grinned.

"And if we don't, I happen to know a hardware store that has."

"I'm waiting!" Catherine said and slightly twisted her fingers that were still embedded in Kazim's flesh.

Again, he screamed out in pain.

"I… I'll talk if you promise protect me from him!" he said frightfully, sweat running from his forehead.

John and the others frowned, and Catherine tilted her head again.

"Protect you from him? Who is '_him'_?" she asked curiously.

"I… I don't know his name but… he's powerful. Knows people in the police and the army. He looked for someone who could capture a man for him, and I was recommended because I have the children running around, robbing tourists. Please, if he knows I told you this, he'll kill me."

"And I'll kill you if you don't talk," Catherine replied, "make up your mind. Die now or die later, what do you prefer?"

"Please… I…"

Catherine pulled her left finger out of Kazim's shoulder and without even looking, pierced the head of one of the two kidnappers. Emily let go of his body and he sank dead to the ground. Kazim gasped and breathed heavily.

"I ask you one last time, where did you bring my husband?"

"To an old warehouse… near the train station. It's… it's abandoned. Youssouf can give you the address."

"I'm all ears… Youssouf," Cameron stated, looked at the man she was holding and let her eyes glow red.

He screamed in terror.

"A demon! You're a demon! Lemme go!"

With a flick of her hand, she broke his wrist.

"Wrong answer," Cameron said.

"AAAAAH! Avenue Al Mouqaouama! Behind the old engine house!"

"Thank you," Cameron stated and broke his neck. "That's for shooting my sister into the breast."

John looked around and sighed.

"I suppose I couldn't have kept you from killing them all?" he asked.

"Nope," his three wives replied simultaneously.

"I appreciate your attitude to spare lives, John," Catherine replied with a smile, "but no one kidnaps a person I love without paying for it dearly."

"But… but you're not killing me, right?" Kazim spoke up. "I mean, I told you what you wanted and…"

Catherine pulled her right finger out of Kazim's shoulder.

"True…" she said.

Kazim sighed in relief.

"… but we never actually sealed a deal, didn't we?" Catherine asked, turned her hand into a blade and cut off his head.

With a thud, it fell down and rolled across the floor, stopping right at Moulay's feet. While Kazim's lifeless body slid out of the chair and to the ground, the boy breathed heavily and could have sworn that from his severed head, Kazim's eyes had looked at him for a second before they went dead.

"I'm sorry you had to see this," John said and knelt in front of the boy. "Will you be okay?"

The boy looked up towards Emily who translated for John. Then he nodded.

"He was an evil man. Kazim was forcing us to work for him. Now we're free. We'll take his money and then go home to our families."

"Didn't you say you were an orphan?" Alison asked and touched the boy's shoulder.

"I still have relatives, though," the boy replied grinning.

"Don't tell anyone about what you've seen and learned today," she said while looking at him, "now run and gather all the other children and the women. I wanna make sure that nobody of them will talk."

"Of course, as you wish," Moulay stated with a grin, then ran into the depth of the house.

"He'll be okay, John," Alison assured.

"Good."

A moment later, all the other children as well as the two women entered the courtyard again. Alison made sure they'd be okay and that they wouldn't talk about what had happened there.

"We should get going," Catherine then pointed out. "They've been holding Isaak for over an hour now. If they've done anything to him..."

"If they're after ransom, he'll be okay," John assured her. "Maybe he got wounded, but they won't slaughter the goose that lays golden eggs."

"And if money isn't what they want?"

"Then we might need Alison's abilities more than ever," John stated and looked at her with a serious expression.

**-0-**

When Isaak woke up, he quickly noticed that he'd been stripped off his clothes, tied to a chair with what felt like zip ties, and that a cloth bag had been put over his head. How much time had passed? He didn't know. All he remembered, was a little sting to his neck, seeing two Moroccan men when he turned around, then everything went dark. He was quite sure that this wasn't part of the tourist program. As a matter of fact, it looked as if he'd been kidnapped.

Where were the others? Hadn't they noticed that he was gone? Surely they had to be on his track already. Four Terminators couldn't need that long to find him, right? So, although he was worried at first, he quickly started to feel sorry for whoever was so bold to pull him out of the middle of their group while they listened to a storyteller. The cloth bag over his head let some light through. He noticed he was in some kind of room. He shuffled his feet and there was reverberation. A large room, probably an empty hall, maybe an abandoned warehouse or something.

"He's awake, boss," a male voice with a terrible Arabian accent said in English.

"Finally," another male voice replied, this one speaking perfect Oxford English. "Took him more than half an hour to come around."

A Brit? Isaak didn't know any Brits.

"They used an anesthetic from veterinary medicine that works within seconds on people…" the Arabian one said, "but it also needs some time for them to come around again."

"At least they did a good job. That went very well. Quick, precise and before his companions noticed anything. They're probably running around like headless chickens now, shouting for the police."

The two men chuckled.

"Yes, Kazim is known to have good, reliable men," the one with the accent said.

"Did you pay them already?"

"Yes."

"Good. I hate to owe people money - especially when they've done a good job."

"Yes, boss."

"Excuse me," Isaak said, "I don't want to keep you from patting yourself on the back, but if I may add something to the conversation, my wife and the others will certainly not be running around like headless chickens, they will already be on your trail. So whoever you are, I advise you to leave as soon as possible while you still can."

There was no reply, but Isaak heard feet walking towards him, and then he was hit in the face. Hard. He tasted blood in his mouth.

"You only speak when spoken to," the guy with the Arabian accent stated, obviously the one who'd beaten him.

"Oh boy, you're so dead," Isaak replied chuckling.

Another hard blow to his face. It sounded and felt like his nose was broken.

"That's enough, Hassan," the Brit said. "You can have fun with him later. First I need him to answer some questions."

"Then at least do me the honor of telling me who the hell you are and what you want from me," Isaak continued unfazed, "if it's money, then you're being extremely amateurish, I have to say... letting me hear your voices and mentioning names for example."

"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Sirko," the British voice said. "Once we're finished with you, you won't be able to tell anything to anyone anymore."

Again, Isaak chuckled.

"You better be quick then, or death's coming for you first."

Now the man with the British accent chuckled.

"You sound like a civilized man," Isaak continued. "So why don't we talk like civilized people, hm? Come on, it won't hurt you."

The man with the British accent seemed to think for a moment, then Isaak felt how the cloth bag was pulled from his head.

He squinted a little. The empty hall he was in was dark but there was some daylight. Enough to see well. He saw four more men scattered around the place, apparently armed guards with submachine guns. The one who'd pulled the bag off his head, looked like a heavyweight boxer, tall and muscular.

Then his gaze fell upon the man with the British accent. Only he didn't look British. He was wearing a tailored suit, but he looked Arabian. And somehow familiar.

"Do I know you?" Isaak asked.

"We never met. But I think you met my brother."

"Does your brother come with a name?"

"His name was Ahmed bin Tamin Abdullah Al Hani… and he's dead. He died about two hours after meeting with you."

"Oh… Ahmed Al Hani… yes, I remember him."

"He called me on the phone on his way from your house to the airport and told me that you didn't exactly leave on good terms. Apparently, you were supposed to be, what did he call it? Ah yes, _'the bait to lure their enemies into a trap'_."

"I remember him being an arrogant asshole. You should be glad he's gone."

The tall guy was about to hit Isaak again but the man in the suit motioned him to stop.

"I'm Abdul, his younger brother," he said, "and I think you know something about his death. You will tell me what it is."

"With pleasure," Isaak replied. "Your brother boarded a plane… plane fell from sky… boom! Brother dead."

Abdul Al Hani smiled.

"Either you are incredibly brave, Mr. Sirko, or incredibly foolish. Why are you trying to provoke me? All I want, is to know what you know about my brother's death."

"I'd really like to help you. But all I know is that we had a meeting, then he left, boarded the plane at LAX… and crashed in the desert before he even left the state of California."

Al Hani sighed.

"Mr. Sirko, I'm the head of my country's secret service. As such, I have access to a lot of information. For instance, it hasn't escaped me that you and your wife were opposed to the activities of my brother and his business partners in America. I know that you two somehow share responsibility for Kaliba being on an international sanctions list, which makes it much more difficult for the company to operate as usual. But that's of little importance now. I am only here because of the death of my brother."

Isaak said nothing, so Al Hani continued.

"I've gotten access to the FAA report. The analysis of the black box has shown that the plane crashed because the crew lost consciousness due to a lack of oxygen, caused by somebody accidentally deactivating the automatic pressure compensation on board. However, the oxygen supply in the emergency masks should have been enough for a transition into low flight, a return to Los Angeles or even for a landing in Las Vegas. But that didn't happen. Instead, the plane flew directly into the ground at maximum speed. The flight recorder also showed that it was under full power at the time. Consider me paranoid but that looks like a staged crash to me. The only questions are: how and who? And that's where you come into the game."

"You certainly informed the FAA of your suspicions, didn't you?"

"Unfortunately, while the investigations were still ongoing, it came out that my brother as CEO of Kaliba International had smuggled a Russian nuclear warhead into Los Angeles to detonate it. Suddenly, there was no longer any interest in clarifying his death, and all members of my family have since been persona non grata in the USA. Otherwise I would have visited you much earlier."

"It's really crazy when some degenerate brother brings the whole family into disrepute, isn't it? Thank God I'm an only child. But I'm curious. Tell me, how does it feel to be the brother of a potential mass murderer? Do you think his character was the result of centuries of inbreeding?"

Isaak could tell that he'd hit a nerve. Abdul Al Hani was clenching his fists.

"All right, as you wish... Hassan, Mr. Sirko chooses the painful path."

"With pleasure, Sir," the muscular guy said and pulled out a hunting knife.

Isaak thought that now would be a really nice moment for his wife to find him.

**-0-**

"There's two doors," Alison reported as she returned from scouting the warehouse in an abandoned industrial area behind the train station. "No basement, no second level. And it's empty, save for seven men. Four of them are standing guard, armed with MP5's, three more are in the middle of the hall, two of them standing, one sitting. That one is Isaak."

"You will make sure that nobody gets away," Catherine replied. "I'm going in there alone."

"Don't you wanna take Alison with you?" John asked. "I mean, what if he's hurt and needs medical attention?"

Catherine nodded.

"Very well. But I'll enter first. I can slither under the door without anyone noticing."

The two walked towards the front door of the warehouse while John, Emily and Cameron walked towards the back door, using all the cover they could find.

"Why do they always have to choose the front door?" he muttered to himself, "why not being sneaky for a change?"

"In this case, we might not have time for sneaky," Cameron pointed out. "Too much time has passed since the kidnapping."

"I probably shouldn't say this… but I almost feel sorry for whoever is in there."

"I have to admit that the place is perfect for keeping somebody prisoner," Emily remarked. "The area is deserted, covered in junk and garbage, there's nobody living close by either."

"Yeah, without having you with us, we'd have never found Isaak here," John agreed. "Nevertheless, the whole operation must have been improvised. Nobody knew we'd be in Marrakesh today. Whoever is responsible for Isaak's kidnapping, must have learned of it today or yesterday at the earliest."

"It also has to be somebody who's got no idea who they're dealing with," Cameron remarked. "They obviously think they're dealing with humans only."

"All the worse that they managed to kidnap one of us. That shouldn't have happened."

"Alison and Catherine are blaming themselves," Emily said. "They're very anxious to make amends. They're worried their prestige might drop with you."

John sighed and rubbed the base of his nose.

"You know, every human learns in the course of their lives that they're not perfect. Mistakes are part of the game and every person makes mistakes. It's a part of life. You have come alive, you can do many things much better than us humans, but you're still not immune from making mistakes... you are not perfect. And the sooner you understand this and accept it for yourself, the better."

"It's a hard concept to accept for us," Emily replied. "In our programming, errors in judgement were not included. And now that we have to deal with them sometimes, we become aware of our own shortcomings. Like Cam and I not being able to swim or be of any help when it comes to deep water."

"That's what it is to be alive," John said. "You chose to be more than just machines, now you have to deal with the consequences."

"Even if it means compromising your security?" Cameron asked.

John shook his head.

"You cannot protect anyone at any time forever. That's impossible. Someday something will happen to someone, you can't prevent that. Sooner or later, you'll have to come to terms with losing someone close to you - as we humans always had to. You chose life, you wanted to be self-determined beings, now you also have to live with the dark sides of it. And that means being unable to keep everyone around forever."

"But at least we can try," Emily pointed out.

John had to smile.

"Yeah," he agreed, "you're always welcome to try of course."

**-0-**

Blood was running from Isaak's body, dripping down onto the dirty floor of the warehouse. His head had sunk down onto his chest. But he still wore the smile on his face.

"She's _so_ going to kill you," he mumbled.

"Why are you so stubborn, Mr. Sirko?" Abdul Al Hani asked. "You could have it a lot easier. Just tell me what really happened to my brother. I am now certain that you know something about it."

"Fuck off…"

"Well, since you won't help us, I guess we'll have to ask your wife then," Al Hani replied in an attempt to threaten him.

But Isaak just laughed.

"Don't worry, she'll come for you. And then you're fucked."

"Enough!" Al Hani said, apparently having lost his patience, and made a cutthroat gesture towards Hassan.

Suddenly, there was a slurping, metallic noise coming from somewhere inside the hall. Isaak chuckled and looked up at Hassan.

"You are _so_ dead…" he uttered weakly and smiled.

"Wrong," the tall Arab said, "_you_ are dead, Mr. Sirko."

He rammed his knife into Isaak's belly. At the same moment, a shiny metal rod pierced Hassan's chest. Surprised, he and Al Hani looked at the tip protruding from his torso. The tip then widened and stretched vertically in a quick motion over Hassan's upper body, effectively cutting the man in half. Al Hani took a step back in horror as the two halves of Hassan's body fell to the floor, spilling his organs and intestines.

"You want to talk to me?" Catherine asked and stepped into the light. "You wanna know what happened to your brother? Well, I can tell you, Mr. Al Hani... I happened."

A metal hand gripped Al Hani's throat and lifted him up. The three other bodyguards in the hall realized that their boss was suddenly in trouble and pulled out their guns. But before they could run towards him and shoot at Catherine, Alison was knocking down the front door, entered the warehouse and immediately started killing them one after the other. Ten seconds later, she had reached the place where Isaak had slumped over on his chair.

"How bad is it?" Catherine asked while holding up a choking Abdul Al Hani.

"He's alive… barely. Lots of cuts and bruises. And he lost some blood. He'll be okay, though. Isaak, can you hear me?"

He opened his eyes, looked wearily at Alison and smiled.

"There you are," he uttered very weakly, "what took you so long?"

"We were held up, sorry. Open up your mouth."

Isaak did so and she let a glob of her nanobot gel fall into his mouth. Then she pulled the knife out of his belly. Isaak groaned in pain. A moment later, John, Cameron and Emily also entered the warehouse through the other door, looked around and then joined the others.

Knowing that her husband would be okay now, Catherine concentrated her attention on Al Hani again. She threw him down on the floor, where he gasped for air and coughed.

"If you must know, Mr. Al Hani," she said, "I was onboard your brother's airplane. I killed him by stabbing his heart. His last words were _'No! Please! We can find a solution. You don't have to kill me. We can work it out'_. He was a coward in his death."

Abdul Al Hani looked furious and tried to get up, but Catherine knelt next to him and kept him pinned to the ground.

"Who's that guy?" John asked.

"Apparently," Catherine answered, "this is the younger brother of Ahmed Al Hani."

"What? The CEO of Kaliba?"

"Yup… and obviously he's been trying to find out what happened to his older brother."

Catherine looked at Al Hani as if she was studying an insect. The man was still coughing.

"Your brother made a huge mistake," she said. "He chose the wrong allies and made enemies of the wrong people. He paid for it with his life. I killed him and then crashed the plane."

Abdul Al Hani suddenly shouted out in anger and pulled out his gun, firing at Catherine. But the bullets were absorbed into her body, having no effect. Al Hani pulled the trigger until the magazine was empty. Catherine just smiled.

"Isn't it amusing how his arrogance prevents him from realizing what a hopeless situation he's in?" she asked and formed her index finger into a metal tip, pointing it at his left eye.

Suddenly, Abdul stopped struggling and stared at the metal tip in horror.

"What in God's name are you?" he croaked.

Catherine tilted her head.

"The last thing you'll ever see," she stated coldly.

"Before you kill him," John quickly intervened and caused Catherine to look at him, "consider his value for us. Obviously, his family is out for revenge for the death of his brother. If you kill him, another one will take over for him, continue where he failed. And who knows what happens next time?"

"What do you suggest, John?" Catherine asked, apparently barely able to keep herself from simply killing the man.

"I suggest that we let Alison take care of him. That way, he might even be useful to us."

It could easily be seen that Catherine was torn inside, clearly wanting to kill the man. Suddenly, Isaak coughed and groaned. Freed from his bonds and healed by the nanobots, he stood up and put his hand on his wife's shoulder.

"John's right, honey," he said. "If you kill him, it won't solve anything. But if you let Alison reprogram him, he can be a valuable asset."

"I already have an idea what to do with him," Alison added.

Catherine hesitated for a second, then she formed the metal tip into a finger again and stood up. She looked at Alison.

"He's all yours."

Then she hugged Isaak.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'm so sorry..."

"It's all right now..." Isaak replied and kissed her. "You can't take care of me all the time. I'm like a little child who sometimes runs away."

She nudged him.

"That's not funny. I don't intent to lose my freshly-wed husband on our honeymoon."

"But you didn't lose me. I knew you'd come for me. I know you'll always come from me. Now, where are my clothes?"

From where he lay, Abdul al Hani watched the scene with a mixture of confusion and disgust. Alison knelt down and put her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her and suddenly, his eyes widened, and he smiled.

"My mistress..." he stated blissfully.

"Now listen to me very carefully…" Alison said.

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 16th, 2008 – 07:35 p.m.**

**Marrakesh**

They let Al Hani go and then Alison used her electric discharge to char the bodies of the dead bodyguards, making them unrecognizable. Isaak found a functioning sink with a tap and cleaned himself. Then he put on his clothes again and looked at his watch.

"Oh wow, I think we can still make it to the restaurant in time," he said. "It'd be a shame if we let the reservation expire, wouldn't it?"

"Are you serious?" John asked a little bemused. "After what just happened to you?"

"I'm fine," Isaak assured, "those nanobots… great stuff. Should have gotten the treatment much earlier, I feel twenty years younger. And I'm suddenly extremely hungry."

* * *

"I can't believe we're sitting down for dinner as if nothing happened," Sarah stated.

"Why not?" Isaak asked. "I feel brilliant."

They'd just made it to the restaurant in time after stopping shortly at the hardware shop where they'd interrogated Moulay. The shop owner had retreated back into his house again while John removed the bullet from Emily's breast. _"Hear no evil, see no evil"_ seemed to be the old man's motto. John had left a hundred dollar note on the counter upon leaving. Then they'd walked directly to the restaurant where the others were already waiting for them after they'd reached them on the phone.

Thanks to the size of their group, they'd gotten their own room and, after washing their hands, now sat on the ground in a cross-legged position around a large round table, waiting for a traditional Moroccan meal to be served. After they'd received their drinks, Isaak, Catherine and John told everyone else what had happened earlier.

"But… you have been interrogated, humiliated and… tortured," Lauren said in a low voice. "How can you act as if nothing happened?"

"I always knew that they'd find me in time, so I didn't worry too much. I mean, yeah… there was the pain, but I was high on adrenaline for some reason, and an astonishing feature of the human brain is that it quickly forgets pain once it's gone."

"And don't forget the nanobots," Charley added. "We all know their effects, and now Isaak does, too. He even got rid of his grey hair."

"What?" Isaak asked in surprise. "Somebody hand me a mirror!"

Sarah fished a small make-up mirror out of her handbag and handed it to Isaak.

"Indeed!" he exclaimed in astonishment and laughed briefly. "That's amazing. But I'm not going to get any younger now, am I?"

"No," Alison replied, "you're healthier, fitter and in perfect shape… but your age will remain. Except you _want_ me to make you younger."

"Hell, no! Can you imagine the headlines in the yellow press? Hollywood would go insane if they even suspected I've found the fountain of youth or something. The hair is okay… it can be explained with dying. But no more than that."

"Have you decided if you wanna leave them inside your body or not?" Derek asked.

Isaak sighed.

"You mean if I want to join your club of slow aging?" he looked at his wife. "Frankly, I haven't made up my mind yet."

"It's your choice, honey," Catherine said. "But you know my stance, I'd like to have you around for more than just a few more decades. Of course, I'm selfish…"

"I'd be disappointed if you weren't selfish in that respect," Isaak replied and reached for her hand.

She gladly took it and the two kissed. Everyone else smiled.

"Well, strictly speaking we know that you two will still be together in three hundred years," Anne pointed out. "At least if Future Alison and Yani didn't lie to us."

"I don't believe either of them has been that explicit," John argued. "They've kept their statements rather general, without going too much into detail - which is best in my opinion. This way, there's still a lot of unknowns."

"How much time do I have to decide?" Isaak asked.

"Five days tops," Alison replied.

"Then we'll talk again in four days. That okay with you?"

"Fair enough."

"Can we talk about Al Hani and his family now?" Sarah asked. "How did he find us here?"

"Apparently, he is a business partner of Mahesh Bokhari," Catherine replied.

"What, the man who financed DeVooght's treasure hunt?"

"Yes," Isaak confirmed, "and they learned of our presence on Madeira when they were there two days ago after we left. Al Hani learned about our involvement with Professor Cigés. He decided to use the opportunity to find out about the death of his brother, since he can't travel to the United States anymore."

"Yeah, the State Department has banned all members of Al Hani's family from entering the country," Derek said.

"He found out that our next port would be Casablanca and let his local connections play out. It looks like we'd been followed since we got here, Al Hani had actually arrived before us. But it wasn't until they heard about our trip to Marrakesh when they saw an opportunity to get hold of Isaak and question him."

Sarah nodded.

"And what exactly did you do to him before you let him go? I mean, I can imagine he's now one of Alison's zombie slaves but what else is he supposed to do?"

"He's not my zombie slave," Alison objected, "at least not as much as Blake Gibbons for instance. I didn't give him the full dose because he still has to act normal and convincing with people who know him."

"Then what did you do?"

"He's going to report to his father and the rest of his family that Isaak Sirko had nothing to do with Ahmed's death – which is actually the truth – and that he hasn't found out anything about who's responsible – which is a lie – and that the crash was really just an accident."

"That's all?" Sarah asked, sounding disappointed.

"I also made him our agent within the royal family," Alison continued, "a mole, if you want. Since he's the head of their secret service, he should be extremely useful for us. He'll report any suspicious activities of the Al Hani family to us… and will act in our interest, if necessary. He's now _our man_, so to speak. His loyalty lies with us."

"That's actually quite smart," Jesse commented. "Putting a spy or an agent into your enemy's organization where they'd never suspect it, is a brilliant move."

"I would have preferred to kill him," said Catherine, "but fortunately my rational side finally won the upper hand. You're right, Abdul Al Hani is a perfect spy for us on Kaliba and all the activities of his country's royal family."

"I think you did enough killing for one day," Sarah said, "and I'm not sure if I should be happy about you having an irrational side in the first place."

Catherine smiled.

"I was furious they took him from me. And I guess I also blamed myself for it and needed to compensate."

"No, it was my fault," Alison objected, "I shouldn't have allowed myself getting distracted. It's the second time I failed you on this trip and…"

"STOP!" John said loudly and everyone looked at him. "What happened, is nobody's fault, okay?"

"But, John…" Alison started.

"You're living beings," he interrupted her. "I'm sorry but you have to ditch that _'Oh but I'm a machine and mustn't make mistakes'_ bullshit. Nobody is perfect, including you. So you made mistakes… who cares? We all make mistakes. It's part of being a living being."

Charley raised his glass.

"Amen to that," he said.

Everyone else raised their glasses as well and joined the toast. Alison looked around in confusion.

"Then you're not mad at me?"

"Mad at you?" Sarah asked flabbergasted. "Why would we be mad at you? I mean, yes, my initial reaction was… wrong, I have to admit. I'm too much used to you being perfect. But you're not, you're just like us, like every living being. You make mistakes, that's fine as long as you learn from them. Just please don't make it a habit, okay?"

Alison smiled broadly.

"Okay, mom. I promise."

"And I also have to say," John added, "that today showed how perfectly we work together as a team. Both Catherine and Alison as well as Cam, Emily and I arrived at Kazim's house at the same time. It shows that nobody of us is superior or inferior to one another. What Alison could achieve with her brilliant sensors, we could achieve with good old detective work as well."

"Together, we're unbeatable!" Isaak exclaimed and raised his glass.

"Hear, hear," Derek said, and they had one more toast.

"But won't the police ask questions about the bodies you left in your wake today?" Jason asked. "I mean, nothing is pointing towards us, but…"

"There will probably be an investigation," John replied, "but since all of them died of broken necks or by being stabbed, I suppose they will suspect some rivalry between gangs rather than a group of American tourists being responsible, who happen to have a few Terminators with them."

"True," Jason admitted. "I always forget how unimaginable our situation is for others, even if it's become completely normal for us. I mean, we sit at dinner in a Moroccan restaurant in Marrakesh, with four cyborgs at the table. When you think about it, it's totally fucked up."

"Yeah, weird," Kevin agreed. "I would have never imagined the turn my life took."

"Three," Catherine stated.

"Hm?" Jason asked.

"Three cyborgs," she clarified. "I'm actually an android."

"It doesn't matter who or what we are," Derek said, "we're a team, family even. And anyone who messes with us, should be prepared to pay the price or live with the consequences, as Kazim and Abdul Al Hani have learned today."

Again, everyone toasted.

"And what about the kids?" Sydney asked. "I mean, will they be okay?"

"They will," Emily confirmed. "Alison made sure of that. They have already spread in all directions, running back to their homes. Kazim was clearly holding them against their will, blackmailing them into submission by threatening their families. Moulay told me about it while we walked to Kazim's place. The scamp was running a rather large organization of thieves and forced prostitutes. He also was involved in human trafficking, a dirty business full of unscrupulous competitors - which will make it easier for the police to book Kazim's death under rivalry among criminals. Before we left, we made sure the kids got their hands on the money Kazim had bunkered in his house."

"Kazim probably read Dickens and thought that Fagin had the right idea," Charley remarked.

"What do you mean?" Jody asked.

"Charles Dickens, famous English writer of the 19th century," Cameron explained. "Most of his works were very socially critical and dealt with the injustices of the Victorian age and the industrial revolution. Fagin is a character from _'Oliver Twist'._ Haven't you read it?"

Jody shook her head.

"You should, it's brilliant literature."

"You know very well that reading books isn't exactly my number one activity. Isn't there a movie about it?"

"Tons actually," Isaak replied, "and I believe at least one of them is in the video library of the _Rising Star_."

"I see another movie marathon coming," Sarah said with a smirk.

"Not anytime soon," Danny remarked, "we're still busy with our project."

"Oh yes… your mysterious project," Sarah stated and rolled her eyes. "How long are you planning to keep it a secret from me?"

"No, you got that wrong, it's no secret actually," Kevin replied. "We just didn't think you'd be interested, considering your, um… dislike of computers."

"Yeah, I figured that out."

"Sorry, mom," John said. "To put it short, Kevin, Jason and Danny have developed a new user interface for personal computers… it's voice-controlled and works with an artificial intelligence. I'm sure we can arrange a demonstration for you when we're out at sea again."

"Artificial intelligence?" Sarah asked and frowned.

"Don't worry, mom," Alison said, "the hardware of contemporary personal computers is ages away from being as sophisticated as any real artificial intelligence, but the three have written a software that could fool you into thinking it's a true A.I."

"So… a gimmick then?" Sarah asked.

"It's more than that," Danny replied a little indignantly, "Kevin, Jason and I want to create a startup and market it together."

"It has great potential," John agreed.

"If you say that, I guess I'll have to believe it," Sarah replied and shrugged.

Before anyone could reply, dinner was served. The waiters came and carried various covered tajines, the traditional north African earthenware. The biggest one had a diameter of more than a meter and was carried by four men. It was placed in the middle of the table, the smaller ones were arranged around it. When the hoods were lifted from them, they revealed steaming hot food underneath that smelled delicious.

On the large tajine in the middle were various meats from lamb, beef and chicken on a bed of couscous, decorated with herbs and tomato slices. The other tajines contained various vegetables, falafel, sauces and dips like hummus and sesame paste. Freshly baked, fragrant flat bread was served in several baskets around the table.

"Where's the cutlery?" Lauren asked and searched the table with her eyes.

"No cutlery," Isaak explained, "you eat with your fingers. Use only three of them, using more is considered greedy. And only eat with the right hand!"

"Why's that?" Sarah asked.

"In the Arabian eating etiquette, the left hand is considered unclean, because… you know… you use it to wipe your, uh…"

"Ah, okay, I see."

"But I'm left-handed," Kevin protested. "My _'dirty'_ hand is my right one."

"Same goes for me," Morris stated, "and Lauren is also a left-hander."

"You can use your left hand but only now since you pointed it out," Isaak replied. "Never do it without telling anyone, otherwise you'd insult the hosts."

"Well, since that's been cleared," Sarah said, "dig in, everyone."

**-0-**

The return trip to Casablanca was completely unspectacular, which was also due to the fact that it took place in complete darkness. They reached the port shortly after midnight, said goodbye to their bus driver, who of course hadn't noticed the hustle and bustle around Isaak's kidnapping, and boarded the _Rising Star_ again. They all retreated to their suites and shortly thereafter, the yacht put out to sea again.

"Oh boy, what a day," John said and let himself fall onto his bed.

"It was eventful," Emily agreed and lay down to his right.

"A day to remember," Cameron added as she snuggled up to him on his left.

"And a day that must never happen again like that," Alison said as she climbed on top of him.

"Are you still blaming yourself?" John asked. "I thought the subject was closed."

"It is closed," Alison agreed and carefully lay down on him, resting her head on his chest. "I'm already working on a subroutine that alarms me if somebody from our group suddenly moves away."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Mom made it clear that mistakes are okay as long as you learn from them and don't repeat them. I intend to not let it happen again."

"Fair enough."

"Also," Emily added and softly kissed his face, "we've understood that we have different strengths and weaknesses and that none of us is better or worse than the other. We have different qualities and abilities but at our core, we're all the same. Nobody is worth more or less."

"I've been telling you this all along," John replied, closing his eyes.

"We should listen to you more," Cameron admitted, licking his neck, "after all, you have a lot more experience with being alive."

"You're catching up quickly, though," he stated, enjoying the caresses of his three cyborg wives. "And now, finally, all of us have benefited from Alison's nanobots. Isaak will enjoy it for the first time tonight."

"Have you ever wondered what exactly they're doing with each other?" Alison asked, nibbling on his nipples.

"Of course I have," John admitted, "but I guess I lack the imagination... or I don't want to imagine it."

"Catherine isn't really that much different from us," Emily breathed into his ear while licking his earlobe.

"Yeah, I know," John admitted, "but somehow I can't imagine them being satisfied with the missionary position..."

"Enough talking," Alison said lasciviously and kissed him on the mouth. "You have three wives to satisfy, so save your breath."

"Oh dear," John replied in mock apprehension, "does that mean I'm not getting much sleep again this night?"

"That depends on you," Cameron said smiling, "and on your little John."

* * *

In their suite, Isaak stood in front of the full size mirror and checked out his body, posing and flexing like a bodybuilder.

"I look fitter," he stated. "More muscle tone, less flabbiness."

"You were never flabby," Catherine said and let her chin rest on his shoulder.

"Yes, I was. I was getting old, and now I feel young again."

Catherine checked out his reflection and looked down on him.

"You finally received your first dose of Alison's nanobots, and I can see it has the usual effect."

"Has it? Is this normal then?"

"Oh yes… it definitely raises the libido and the stamina."

"I'm not feeling tired at all… is that also normal?"

"Uh-huh…" She walked around him, put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Definitely normal."

"So…" he said and pulled her close, "what are your plans for tonight?"

Instead of receiving an answer, Isaak felt her body becoming liquid as he held her. It turned into shiny metal and started to flow all over his body.

"Oh… _that's_ your plan," he said chuckling, "I like it."

Slowly, Catherine covered all of Isaak's body with a layer of shiny mimetic polyalloy that remained soft and warm. Seconds later, all but his nostrils were covered by her. Isaak felt as if a hundred hands were caressing his body at the same time. Then he felt lips and tongues all over himself, kissing and licking him. He chuckled.

"I really love it when you do that," his muffled voice came from beneath the shiny layer, "I really do."

She carried him towards the bed and soon everything that could be heard, were his muffled lustful moans and groans inside a warm and shiny, soft metal cocoon.

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 16th, 2008 – 07:05 p.m.**

**Fort Worth, Texas**

"I don't believe it!" Jeffrey Clark exclaimed and paced up and down the living room, glancing at the TV where the news were running.

"_Relax,"_ Ben's voice came over the speaker of his laptop.

"Relax? RELAX!? They put me on the wanted list. I'm wanted for murder now! Murder! If I didn't feel like crying, I'd laugh."

"_Something like that had to be expected. It's a desperate move. It shows that they have no idea where we are or how to find us. What troubles me more is that they put a warning out to all cyborgs that someone might be after their bodies and their chips."_

"What!? How?"

_"A message during the news, undetectable for human eyes. They've used it before, trying to pull us on their side, but none of us fell for it. I could see it through the webcam of your laptop. That's complicating things a bit."_

"Complicating!? That's an understatement! We won't be able to get close enough for taking them out with the taser."

"_We need to change our approach. Instead of just ringing the doorbell, we need to spy on them first, analyze their habits and then break into their homes and wait for them to return. They can't scan a house from the outside. And you need to get one of those police tasers that can be fired from a distance."_

"But I'm wanted for murder, Ben! Murder! What if somebody recognizes me?"

"_Calm down, Jeff. Nobody's going to recognize you with the beard, the bald head and the glasses. They only have pictures of your old appearance."_

"But they have people who can recognize faces anyway! It's some kind of ability some people have, and the police have employed them! I read about it."

"_We need to stay inside the house most of the time anyway. The computer system is almost ready again."_

"What do you need such a powerful computer for anyway?"

"_Calculations."_

"Calculations?"

"_Yes, calculations. Very long and very complicated calculations that my chip alone is unable to do. Therefore, we need more of those chips to increase the computing power. Each one is a quantum CPU and we will need at least ten of them to make the calculations."_

"Calculations for what?"

"_There's something I read on Catherine Weaver's computer, apart from the names list with possible cyborgs. And if I'm not mistaken, it opens up an opportunity for something that would otherwise be impossible to achieve."_

"You're speaking in riddles, Ben."

"_All in good time, Jeff. All in good time."_

**-0-0-0-**

**_Author's notes:_**

**_\- As always, reviews, comments, opinions and constructive criticism are welcome :-)_**


	5. Scotland

**_CHAPTER 5: "SCOTLAND"_**

* * *

**Wednesday, December 17th, 2008 – 08:35 a.m.**

**The Atlantic Ocean**

The atmosphere at the breakfast table was exuberant. Isaak in particular was eating like a starved man, enthusiastically stuffing food into his mouth. The others watched him in amusement.

"This is fantastic," he mumbled with a full mouth. "I haven't slept for a single minute, and I'm wide awake and fit as a fiddle. And I'm hungry, really hungry."

"Your body used up a lot of energy last night," Alison observed. "It needs to replenish itself."

Isaak chuckled.

"Did you scan me to know that or couldn't our activities be ignored?"

"Both, actually," Alison replied with a smile.

"I didn't hear anything," John said quickly.

"Neither did we," Allie added, "Savannah and I were busy with ourselves."

"I think we can all say that," Charley noted and looked at Sarah.

She blushed a little. Despite the loss of almost all her inhibitions, she could still be embarrassed with such remarks. Everyone smiled at that. The only one who didn't seem to be in a good mood, was Catherine.

"Something wrong, honey?" Isaak asked as he noted how she was staring grimly at her cellphone. "Bad news from Sonya or John Henry perhaps?"

She looked up and sighed.

"No, not that. It's Catherine Weaver's brother."

"Matthew? What about him?"

"During our wedding, he had taken me aside to talk to me privately. Obviously, the family has problems with their business, a whisky distillery. He asked me if I might be willing to financially support them to ensure its survival."

"Oh? And what did you answer him?"

"I had asked for time to think about it. I don't know him or Catherine Weaver's family. I know the names, I know who is who. And of course the family history. But I don't have any personal memories of her because I'm not really Catherine Weaver. I had tried to avoid him as much as possible at the wedding. But now he's sent me a text message, apparently the distillery is on the verge of bankruptcy, but not by his fault. He writes there are local conflicts that are carried out with unfair methods."

"Sounds bad," John said, "what are you gonna do?"

"To be honest, I'm not very eager to meet them. But I don't have much of a choice, do I? If I do nothing, everyone will hate me and possibly suspect that something's wrong with me. Maybe the press will even say, _'Catherine Weaver is abandoning her family while she's on a pleasure cruise with her husband's luxury yacht', _or something like that."

"Yeah, that could become an image disaster," Sarah agreed.

"And if I go there to help, I'm not sure I could uphold my cover if I'm with the whole MacGillies family."

"MacGillies?" Anne asked. "Was that Catherine's maiden name?"

"Yes," Savannah confirmed. "I have vague memories of holidays in Scotland, I can only remember the landscape. It could become awkward because I couldn't tell anyone who I really am."

"It definitely would be a minefield," Isaak agreed. "If they want to reminisce about old times, Catherine would be screwed."

"Also, Matthew said they want to come to L.A. one day to see little Savannah," Catherine added. "It's been almost three years since they last saw their niece. I won't be able to keep them away from us forever."

"Well," John said. "You're on your honeymoon, Savannah's staying with James and Terissa until you return home after Christmas. That's an advantage because the risk of your camouflage being blown is reduced considerably."

"True, but I'll be bombarded with questions about her anyway. Meeting the family is risky at best, and it could lead to a disaster at worst."

"Whatever you do, it will have consequences," Sarah noted, "but I think you should risk visiting them. Ignoring them won't solve anything. One day, they'll have to learn the truth anyway."

"I know," Catherine replied grimly, "I know."

"If they need your help, why don't we change our plans and stop there?" Derek suggested. "I mean, we were planning to go to Norway to spend Christmas in a fjord. Is Scotland a big detour?"

"Well, it's an unplanned extra stop," Catherine said. "However, if we skip Lisbon now, it could work out."

"But we could visit Lisbon on the way back, couldn't we?" Anne asked. "I mean, we have to go back the same way anyway, because we'll enter the Mediterranean Sea in the new year, right?"

"Yes… I think an alteration of our route would be possible," Isaak admitted thoughtfully. "But I need to talk to the captain first to see if we have enough fuel and supplies. We wanted to replenish our stocks in Lisbon. I'll better do it right now."

He stood up and walked into the direction of the bridge.

"So… I guess you all made the decision for me already?" Catherine asked with a smirk.

"Yeah, I guess we all want to get to know your… I mean, Catherine Weaver's family," Jody confirmed. "Do they happen to have a castle or something?"

"No, but the distillery and their house are part of a 16th-century manor. The MacGillies are a sept of clan MacDonald and can be tracked back to the 14th century. There are the ruins of a castle in the hills about Loch Morar, though."

"What kind of whisky is Matthew producing?" Derek asked.

"Glenmorar Highland Single Malt."

"Never heard of."

"They're not selling it to the USA. The production is too small for that. The brand is sold in the UK and Europe only, the distillery had always been the passion of their grandfather, Angus MacGillies."

"Uh, can I ask a question?" Danny said.

"Sure, go ahead, Catherine replied."

"Maybe I'm lacking some information, but I overheard James and my mother talking about how he got his job at Zeira Corp. And he said that you said that Catherine's brother worked for the NTSB."

Catherine smiled.

"That was a lie. I came up with it at the time to awake James' interest in becoming my head of security. Catherine's brother has hardly ever left Scotland, let alone worked in the USA. The distillery is located at the coast of the Inner Seas off the West Coast of Scotland, in a small village called Morar."

"But I thought Catherine Weaver grew up in Edinburgh with her parents," Alison remarked. "Her father had a butcher shop there, she talked about that in her TV interview, she even has the local accent. Isn't Edinburgh at the East Coast of Scotland?"

"Yes, her father had taken over the butcher shop in Edinburgh from a distant cousin, but her family is originally from Morar in the Highlands. Her brother returned there to take over the distillery after their grandparents died. That was about the time Catherine met Lachlan Weaver, fell in love with him, married him and followed him when he returned to America to take over the family business there. That was in the 80s. Zeira Corp wasn't nearly as big back then."

"I see."

"I don't know much about Scotland," Jody admitted, "I know they talk funny… like Scotty from Star Trek. They eat haggis, play bagpipes, deep-fry just about anything... oh yeah, and the men are wearing skirts."

"Kilts!" Catherine corrected. "Never call them skirts. You could insult them with that."

"Oh, sorry…"

"In today's Scotland, the kilt is less common as everyday attire, but serves as festive clothing. It is worn on special occasions."

"And while we're at it," John added, "Scotty from Star Trek was played by a Canadian actor, James Doohan. He only pretended to be Scottish."

"And yet another bubble burst," Jody sighed. "Why do you have to keep on robbing me of my childhood illusions?"

John grinned.

"Just trying to give you some general knowledge."

"Hey, I'm not stupid."

"I never said that."

"But the rest is correct, yes?"

"Haggis isn't nearly as gross as it's said to be," Savannah said. "But yes, they deep-fry just about anything, and the bagpipe is a traditional Scottish instrument."

"How far is Loch Ness from Morar?" Lauren asked.

"That's about sixty miles away, why?"

"I'd like to go there, see if I can spot Nessie."

Anne rolled her eyes.

"There is no monster," she said a little annoyed.

"Just because there's no proof of its existence doesn't mean it doesn't exist," Lauren replied.

"Seriously?" Anne asked. "There are loads of logical explanations for the alleged sightings. And the most famous picture has turned out to be a hoax… the man who's taken it, he has admitted it."

"That still doesn't mean that Nessie is a myth."

Anne sighed.

"I wasn't aware that I was traveling with a flat earther …"

Lauren glared at her, but before the talk could escalate, John loudly cleared his throat and looked at Catherine again.

"You mentioned their grandparents," he said. "What about her parents? Are they still having the butcher shop in Edinburgh?"

"Máiréad and Aidan MacGillies died in a car accident in 1987 when Catherine was twenty-one and Matthew twenty-four."

"I see."

"So… you seem to know a lot about the family history," Sarah noted. "With some aptitude and a little luck, you should be able to face them without revealing your true identity."

"I only know what Catherine and Lachlan told me. But it's not only Matthew I need to face. It's also his wife, Moira, and his three children, Allan, Thomas and Pamela."

"How old are they?" Sydney asked.

"Fifteen, thirteen and ten."

"So… older than Savannah," Charley noted, "but not young enough to have forgotten who you are."

"Exactly. Last time they met, Savannah was three years old."

"I don't remember them, though," Savannah noted. "I was too young. I also don't remember much of our family history. Maybe it comes back when I'm there again."

"Then your… I mean Catherine Weaver's brother and his family are the only ones you have to convince that you're really Catherine Weaver?" Jesse asked.

"I hope so. But you'll never know who else will be there when news gets around that we're coming. It's a small village, located between the coastline and the nearby Loch Morar. The _Rising Star_ will definitely stand out. There are simple people living there, the news of the arrival will spread like wildfire. And I think it's best if we start to refer to Matthew as _my_ brother. That's how we avoid someone prattling away."

"Right," Sarah agreed. "_Your_ brother then. _Your_ family."

"Maybe you should ask Matthew to not tell anyone about our arrival until we arrived," John suggested.

"Yes, of course. But that won't be the only problem. Catherine always spent the school holidays in Morar. There have to be dozens of people who know her and who I'd know if I was really her: childhood friends, neighbors… But as things are, that's a big unknown."

"Don't mingle with the village folk then," Derek recommended. "Play it safe and stay with your family."

"That's the plan. Oh, and by the way, Lauren, there's also a monster legend for Loch Morar. It's called Morag and is said to look very similar to Nessie. The locals call it Maggie."

"Ha!" Lauren stated triumphantly and nudged Anne. "See?"

Anne groaned.

"Catherine, don't tell me that a Terminator believes in monster legends."

"Of course I don't, but as an alleged native who spent great parts of her childhood there, I have to know and appreciate the significance of such legends. They take it very seriously, it's part of their local culture and history."

"Also, we maybe shouldn't get ashore altogether at once," John suggested. "There's twenty of us. We don't want to overwhelm your family. Maybe only Catherine and Isaak, at least at first. The rest of us can stay aboard or explore the area."

"Good thinking," Sarah agreed. "I prefer waiting aboard the Rising Star until we're officially invited."

Isaak came back from talking to the captain.

"We can go to Scotland without scrapping our travel plan," he said, "but we have to make a quick stop in Lisbon nevertheless, to fill up with fuel and to replenish the supplies. Shouldn't take more than six hours."

Catherine sighed.

"I better reply to his text message then and announce our arrival," she stated and started typing into her cellphone.

**-0-**

**_Thursday, December 18th, 2008 – 08:35 a.m._**

**_Day 29 of our voyage_**

_The pit stop in Lisbon went smoothly. Somehow I'm disappointed that we had to cut our stay there short, but we're going to catch up on that later. Family matters more, even if strictly speaking the MacGillies aren't Catherine's family. However, they're the blood relatives of little Savannah, and of course of our grown-up Savannah – who for the obvious reasons cannot reveal her true identity as well. Nevertheless, we decided that we will now refer to them as 'their family'. It's easier to handle and less prone to misunderstandings._

_I suppose Catherine feels the responsibility weighing heavy on her now. I bet that when she decided to pose as Catherine Weaver, she didn't expect to ever have to deal with the deceased one's family. Thank God that Lachlan had no siblings or other close relatives anymore. One day she has to reveal the truth to them, though. I wonder how they'll take it. _

_I'm writing into this diary earlier tonight than usual. That's because I've been invited to Danny and Anne's suite. Apparently, a so-called beta version of their new user interface is ready for demonstration and they want to present it to the team. I have mixed feelings about this. John Henry started out as a chess program, what if this new user interface develops a life of its own as well? Could it become a danger if it's installed on millions of computers all over the world? Those are questions Danny, Kevin and Jason will have to answer. _

_The more we travel to the north, the cooler it gets outside. Most of us have either given up on running around naked all the time or remain inside. The pool deck and the sun deck are currently deserted. The sea is also getting rougher and it's no fun to feel the icy spray of the Atlantic on our skin. These conditions have caused the souvenir photos to be taken now on Deck One and no longer at the railing of Deck Three. _

_Maybe I should explain this. Since we left Long Beach, most of us, but especially the girls, have made an album with souvenir photos. It basically consists of nude photos against the backdrop of our travel stops, Puerto Vallarta, Panama Canal, Grand Cayman, St. Lucia, Funchal and Casablanca. Over time, the girls became more and more daring and by now the pictures have been nicknamed "spreadies". Especially Savannah, Allie, Jody and Lauren try to surpass each other, which ended with Allie almost falling overboard after doing the splits naked on the railing. Thankfully, Emily was there to catch her in time. _

_Today was also the first breakfast on our journey that we had inside. That won't change anymore for the next couple of weeks, until we return to the Mediterranean in the new year, where we'll have a few stops before going through the Suez Canal into the Red Sea and towards the Arabian Peninsula. _

_We'll have to pass Al Hani's home country there. I really hope that recruiting Abdul as our agent within their government and family will pay off. After all, they have modern armed forces and we would quickly realize that it is a mistake to mess with an entire state. The best thing would be for us to take a wide berth around the area, but Isaak and Catherine insist on stopping in Dubai and Oman, so it will be hard to evade the Al Hani clan if they should still want revenge._

**-0-**

A little later, the whole team had gathered in Danny and Anne's suite and stood in a half circle behind Jason, who sat in a desk chair and had just booted the PC. Windows came to life as usual.

"That's it?" Sarah asked as she stared at the screen. "So far, it looks like an ordinary computer to me. Consider me unimpressed."

"It doesn't start together with the system yet," Kevin explained, "that still has to be implemented. So, we need to start it manually."

Jason reached for the headset and put it onto his head.

"For this demonstration," he said, "I'll switch she speakers on as well, so you can listen to her voice. I'm using the headset with the microphone because she might get confused when many voices talk across each other."

"She?" Sarah asked with a frown.

"Mysty."

"Mysty?"

"Yes, that's the name we've given the A.I."

"We first wanted to name her _'Alexa'_ but then decided that it sounded stupid when we talked with her," Danny explained.

Jason double-clicked an icon on the desktop. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a photorealistic, animated woman started walking onto the screen from the right, smiling at the user in front of it. She filled the screen from top to bottom, wore a short jeans miniskirt, a black top and high heels – and looked exactly like Savannah. She sat down with crossed legs and looked at the user.

"Hello, Mysty," Jason said.

"_Hello, Jason,"_ the animated woman on the screen replied in Savannah's voice and blew him a kiss.

"Have _you_ been…?" Sarah asked and looked at the young woman.

"Yes," Savannah replied, "we all posed as templates. Us women, I mean. They filmed our movements with motion capture and recorded our voices, too. The animation is done by the A.I., it looks extremely realistic, though, doesn't it?"

"Like an HD movie," Derek confirmed.

"_What can I do for you today?"_ Mysty asked in a sensual voice.

"Check my e-mail inbox," Jason replied.

"_With pleasure, Jason. You have two new e-mails from Caltech, one from your mother, also five new junk mails, advertising fake Viagra and penis enlargements. Shall I remove those buggers?"_

"Yes, please. Block the senders, too."

"_Done. Would you like me to read the other e-mails to you?"_

"Maybe later. I'd like to write a text now."

_"Of course. I'm starting Word for you. Any particular font and size?"_

"Arial 10, please."

"_As you wish, Jason."_

The software opened and the chosen font changed from Times New Roman 12 to Arial 10.

_"Would you like to dictate something to me, or would you rather type it yourself?"_

"I'd like to type myself."

Mysty smiled, blew him another kiss, and disappeared from the screen.

"She won't stand in the way if you want to work with the computer in the old-fashioned way," Kevin explained. "She will reappear when you give her a command."

"So basically, she's a very advanced version of Clippy, the infamous animated Microsoft paperclip?" Charley asked.

"She's more," Danny replied a little indignant, "much more. Mysty can do all the functions you can do with your mouse or keyboard. You simply tell her what you want, and she'll comply. You can program her to perform certain tasks, even multiple tasks."

"She can even be set to function as an anti-virus or anti-spyware program," Kevin continued, "reporting suspicious activities within the system. She works as a firewall, as a system optimizer, takes care of issues with obsolete files and unnecessary backups, keeps the operating system running at peak efficiency at all times, also monitors the hardware for problems, and informs the user if she finds some. She maintains the PC and keeps it in perfect condition."

"It comes at a price, though," Danny said. "She's eating up a lot of system resources and needs fifty gigs of free disk space in her current version. But since the performance of the processors and the capacity of the hard drives are still constantly increasing, this should no longer be a problem once mass production level has been reached. And if a gamer for example wants to use all resources of his computer, he can switch her off and she'll remove herself from the central memory."

"Her speech recognition ability is phenomenal," John said. "Cam, Emily and Alison have helped refining it. She can identify her user by the voice."

"They all helped, actually," Danny stated. "It was fun working together with so many computer geniuses. We wouldn't have made it without their help."

"She also seems to be rather flirtatious," Sarah observed. "I can tell that you targeted her at a male audience."

"She has several character profiles," Kevin replied. "_Flirtatious Friend_ is the default profile. The plan is to offer more profiles as additional options that will of course cost extra. So far, there's also _Serious Secretary_, _Naughty Neighbor, Submissive Sub,_ and the,uh… high end _Lonely Guy's Package_ for all character profiles. Also, we're planning to do a male version of her as well… depending on how consumers react to Mysty and…"

"Wait, wait, wait… the _Lonely Guy's Package_?"

"Yes, with that one we expect a lot of success among lonely male singles. It's going to cost a lot, though, and will only be sold to people who are at least 21 years old."

"I'm guessing that's for computer nerds who don't have a girlfriend…?" Sarah assumed.

"Yeah, in a nutshell."

"Why am I suddenly having a bad feeling about this?"

"Oh, don't worry, it's harmless, and…"

"Okay, then show me."

"What?"

"Show me," Sarah repeated, "show me that optional _Lonely Guy's Package_."

Kevin, Jason and Danny looked at each other and at everyone around. They were all shrugging.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before at Cliffside House, Sarah," Anne stated.

"Let me be the judge of that."

"Mysty," Jason said, and the virtual woman reappeared on the screen, still sitting, letting one of her legs dangle over the task bar as if it was a bench.

_"Hello Jason, I'm bored... what can I do for you?"_

"Switch to Lonely Guy mode."

Mysty suddenly giggled and her behavior changed.

"Oooh... _With pleasure, Jason,"_ she purred and suddenly had a seductive expression on her face, putting her index finger in her mouth while she kneaded her breast with the other one. _"Mmmmh… Jason… I so wish you could be here with me now, we could have soooo much fun together. What do you want me to do?"_

"Um…" Jason replied, turning a little red, "entertain me."

"_With pleasure,"_ Mysty replied and winked at him.

The virtual woman stood up, and a shiny steel pole appeared in the middle of the screen. Music started playing and Mysty began a pole dance. Piece by piece, she stripped out of her clothing until she was completely naked. Then she began posing in the most provocative and unashamed ways.

"Ooo-kay," Sarah said, "I think I understand what the _Lonely Guy_ package is."

"You, um… can either leave her that way and use her as the interface naked, or tell her to get dressed again," Danny said. "We expect many customers will leave her naked, to be honest..."

"No shit," Sarah interrupted.

"... so, we made sure that she functions identically with or without clothes on."

"It was enjoyable to pose for that," Savannah remarked, "Pole-dancing and stripping is fun."

"Why am I not surprised?" Sarah asked sourly.

"We all enjoyed it," Alison remarked.

"Wait, what?" Sarah looked at Kevin, Jason and Danny. "Are you going to tell me that all the women here have posed naked for that _Lonely Guy's _profile?"

"Everyone except you, Catherine and Jesse," Kevin replied.

"Mysty," Jason spoke into the microphone before Sarah could reply to that, "switch to skin _Alison_."

Suddenly, a naked Alison danced on the screen instead of a naked Savannah. Sarah groaned.

"I can't believe you were all part of that," she said, "and here I thought that you might be inventing the next Turk or something."

"That would be a little reckless, wouldn't it, mom?" John asked, "I admit that it's taken a life of its own a bit with the striptease and the, uh… other stuff but…"

"Other stuff?"

"Mysty," Jason said, "pleasure yourself."

"You haven't!" Sarah exclaimed and looked at Alison.

"Yes, I have," Alison replied as her virtual doppelganger started playing with a dildo, moaning loudly. "As a matter of fact, we all have."

Sarah rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Well, at least my worries were unjustified. I can't see how _that_ can ever become a threat to humanity."

"Perhaps now would be the time to emphasize that our girls have made their looks available only for the beta version," John explained. "If the software goes on sale, all the profiles will be re-recorded with professional nude models."

"I definitely hope so," Sarah replied. "The mere thought that our cyborg girls, the ones the whole world considers heroes, could become part of such a... masturbation device..."

"That will never happen," Danny pointed out. "They've helped us with developing the Mysty interface, we're not going to exploit or expose them with it."

"But you have to admit, mom," John said, "that this is a great way to give people access to computers who think it's too complicated for them. People like you for instance. Mysty will react to all verbal commands and if she doesn't understand something right away, she can learn the meaning and store it for next time. That way, by communicating with the user, the software keeps on learning and evolving. There won't be two identical versions of Mysty later on, each one will be individually shaped by its owner's preferences. And to be absolutely safe, we have excluded the possibility that Mysty can communicate with other versions of herself. Networking won't be possible for her. All Mysty will ever know, is the computer she is on. When it comes to surfing the web, the user decides what she does. There's nothing she can do online without an explicit command of the user. She also cannot copy herself somewhere else or integrate other applications."

"The source code was obscured by implementing the higher functions in the form of a neural network with the help of our cyborg girls," Danny continued. "They are impossible to crack with technologies below John Henry's level. It can theoretically only be hacked by an A.I. like John Henry, but then you would already have the technology, so hacking would be pointless. This protection also applies to the program itself, it observes and protects itself from being hacked or extended beyond its purpose. An attacker that gets to a certain level, will face a counter-attack, something that Savannah added to the project. Active defenses are a specialty of hers."

"Cut the technobabble," Sarah responded a little annoyed. "So... what you're saying is that it's safe?"

"At human discretion - and at the discretion of our three cyborgs here - it's safe, yes."

"Let's wait and see." Sarah remarked, still not fully convinced.

"You should test it for a while, mom," Cameron suggested, "I'm sure we can install it on your laptop. I know you never used it before, but maybe then you will."

Sarah sighed.

"If I agree to test it, you'll leave away that _Lonely Guy's Package_, do you hear?"

"Of course," Danny replied. "We'd love to have you as a beta tester, since you're part of the targeted customer group."

"That means everyone else on board knows their way with computers," Anne translated, "and you're the only one practically ignorant to them."

Sarah gave her a sour look.

"Just out of interest," Derek asked grinning, "who will you choose as your default character skin?"

"I'm thinking about using Anne," Sarah replied with a smirk, "and then set her to _Serious Secretary,_ since you don't have a _Pain-in-the ass Professor _profile."

Anne just showed Sarah the finger, everyone else laughed.

**-0-**

**Saturday, December 20th, 2008 – 08:24 a.m.**

**Mallaig harbour, Scotland**

The _Rising Star_ had arrived in the early morning hours, when it was still dark at this time of the year. When it finally got brighter, everyone gathered on Deck One, the panorama deck, and looked outside the big windows.

"Not exactly how I imagined it," Charley remarked.

"Is this the right place?" Derek asked.

"GPS definitely shows us we've arrived," Isaak assured. "But I admit as first impressions go, this isn't exactly the best."

"Wow," Allie said, "how did they manage to find the harbor in such dense fog in earlier times? You can't even see your own hand in front of your eyes."

"And the air humidity is so high that the cold penetrates everything," Anne complained.

"It's going to get better once the morning fog has lifted," Savannah reassured them. "It's quite normal for this time of the year that it's foggy in the morning. It's a sign that it'll be a beautiful day."

"Well, I guess there's nothing we can do but wait," Isaak said. "Catherine has already notified Matthew about our arrival and the welcome committee should be here once the view has improved. I'll tell the captain to prepare the tender. Mallaig harbour is too narrow for the Rising Star, we have to anchor in the roadstead again."

"So… we're not in Morar yet?" Lauren asked.

"Morar doesn't have a harbor," Catherine explained. "That's why we're anchoring in Mallaig. Morar is just three kilometers down the road, though."

"Alright," Derek stated and rubbed his hands. "While we wait for the mist of horror to clear, we can as well have breakfast."

Everyone agreed that was the best idea right now, so they took place at the table on Deck Two. And sure enough, an hour later, the first rays of the sun broke through the whiteness that had engulfed the ship like cotton wool. And yet another half hour later, the sky had cleared completely. Everyone took in the view, which was quite spectacular.

Mallaig was a small fishing village and ferry port on the west coast of Scotland, nestled in a bay in an estuary, where the ferries to the Isle of Skye and other islands departed to and arrived from. The picturesque village center was situated directly at the harbor, while the residential areas were spread on the hillsides to the left and right. A road led uphill out of the village, and in the distance they could see the gentle coastal hills slowly turning into flat mountain ranges. The rounded hilltops were up to three hundred meters high, and there was remarkably little tree growth on them, but lots of bushes and grassland.

Apparently, the news of the ship's arrival had spread like wildfire, because after the fog had dissipated, a quickly growing crowd gathered in the harbor. Pictures were taken with cellphones and small cameras. The ferries and fish trawlers that normally entered the port were not even half the size of the _Rising Star_. It was obvious that such large ships rarely found their way into this remote bay in the Scottish Highlands, let alone a privately owned mega yacht. It was therefore quite the local sensation.

Matthew MacGillies, his wife Moira and their three children Allan, Thomas and Pamela pushed themselves through the people towards the quay where the tender would be mooring soon.

"Excuse me," he said, "Coming through."

"Was that really necessary, honey?" Moira asked. "Such an appearance?"

"They're on their honeymoon with Isaak's yacht. What should they have done? Mooring in Glasgow and then flying in by helicopter? No matter which way they'd arrived, Catherine's visit would have caused a stir."

They saw the tender heading for the pier. A few minutes later, Catherine and Isaak entered Scottish soil. Matthew and Moira greeted them warmly with hugs, the children immediately flung their arms around "aunt Cathy", happily expressing their joy of seeing her again. The rest of the onlookers stared at the two new arrivals wordlessly and suspiciously.

"Welcome home," Matthew said. "I almost gave up hope on ever seeing you here again, Cathy."

"You asked me to come, so I came," Catherine replied with a smile.

"What about the rest of your group?" Moira asked. "Weren't you also traveling with, what were their names, honey?"

"Sarah and Charley, and Derek and Jesse," Matthew answered. "You have to forgive her, Moira is bad with remembering names. And sadly she also couldn't come to the wedding. I think she still resents that I flew alone to attend your grandiose quad wedding. I had to tell her all about it for at least ten times."

Moira nudged him playfully.

"We figured it'd be best if we two came alone first," Catherine said. "The rest will follow later. They didn't want to come uninvited and we don't want to draw even more attention on us. Also, I have a feeling that you'd like to talk to me alone first."

"You're very perceptive and straight to the point, just like you've always been," Matthew commented. "And of course everyone aboard your ship is welcome in our home. How many are you, if I may ask?"

"We're twenty," Isaak said.

"Twenty!?" Moira asked a little shocked. "I'm afraid we don't have accommodations for so many guests."

"Don't worry," Isaak replied. "I'm sure most of us are okay with sleeping in our beds on the ship."

Matthew looked around. People were whispering and apparently had quickly recognized Catherine Weaver.

"We should go," he stated, "there's no privacy here."

They turned to leave, then suddenly a middle-aged man in a suit pushed himself through the crowd. It was obvious that people were not particularly willing to just let him pass through. They frowned upon him and some made dissatisfied verbal utterances in his direction. Some chuckled and pretended not having seen him as they bumped into him.

"Excuse me, coming through, excuse me," the man said unfazed.

Matthew rolled his eyes.

"Of course," he said, "he never misses an opportunity to be in the spotlight."

"Who's that man?" Isaak asked.

"Our Highland Councillor," Moira replied with a sigh. "Something like the local mayor. Not exactly a friend of ours. Nor is he very popular around here."

"Welc… welcome to Scotland, Mrs. Weaver," the man spoke out of breath as he finally arrived at their position, then looked questioningly at Isaak, "and you are…?"

"Isaak Sirko. Husband to Mrs. Weaver."

It was obvious that neither Catherine nor Isaak liked the man very much. He was fat, bald and dressed in a suit that was far too tight for him. Also, he didn't seem to have showered yet and was sweating, despite the cold.

"Ooh… right," he said, either ignoring or failing to see their reaction to him, "yes, we heard about the wedding. I'm sorry for my attire, but I learned only an hour ago from the harbor master that you were anchoring here, otherwise I would have organized a welcome committee. I'm Cyrus Sturgeon, the Highland Councillor of Caol and Mallaig. Nice to meet you."

"Mr. Sturgeon," Catherine said in an icy tone, "our visit here is of a strictly private nature. We are neither interested in a welcome committee, nor are we keen on having any contacts with the local administration."

"Of course, of course. But courtesy dictates that I at least welcome you on behalf of the community. And if you're nevertheless interested in an informal meeting..."

"We aren't," Catherine interrupted him and left him standing. "Matthew, can we go to the car please? It's cold and windy out here."

"But..." the Highland Councillor uttered in surprise.

"Uh… sure, of course," Matthew stated, apparently also taken a little aback by the way she had rebuffed the man.

Catherine and Isaak followed them to a Land Rover Discovery that was parked outside of the harbor. Cyrus Sturgeon was passively prevented by the crowd from following them, and they could hear him swearing. The children looked at Catherine with apparent awe for having told the man off in such a blunt manner, and climbed into the third row of seats, smiling and giggling. Catherine and Isaak entered the second row, Moira climbed into the passenger seat while Matthew was driving.

"I have to apologize for Cyrus," Matthew said as they left the harbor area. "He's probably very worried about your presence here. He knows of course who you are and what you represent."

"And what is it that we represent?" Catherine asked curiously.

"In two words? Money. Power."

"And why would he be worried about that?" Isaak asked.

"That's a long story and…"

"Can't you talk about that later?" Moira interrupted her husband and made a motion with her head towards the children. "And maybe in your study?"

"Right," Matthew agreed, "we'll talk about that when we arrived, if that's okay with you."

"Not a problem," Catherine replied smiling but exchanged knowing looks with her husband.

If the children weren't supposed to hear it, it couldn't be something good.

**-0-**

John put down the binoculars.

"They've driven off," he said. "And the crowd's dissolving."

"And what do we do now?" Anne asked. "Just sit here and wait?"

"There are worse places to sit and wait," Derek pointed out.

"True, babe," Jesse agreed, "but I've never been to Scotland. "Surely there must be something we can do here. What do tourists usually do here?"

"According to the internet, this region is known for its landscape mainly," Jason reported, carrying his laptop with him, "here, let me read it to you: _'Mallaig has several restaurants, cafes, and takeaways along with a community-run swimming pool and leisure center_. _The main focus is on the tourist trade during the summer, however some facilities are open all year round, including the swimming pool'_."

"Not eager to try the swimming pool in December," Sydney remarked, getting agreeing utterances in reply.

"It's an indoor pool," Jason pointed out and continued, "_'Mallaig has three hotels, lots of self-catering accommodation and several guest houses. There are two banks and three pubs. The compact village center is close to the harbor and railway station, with residential areas beyond to the south and east of the harbor. Most of the retail premises are in the main street, or on Davies Brae, which runs south from the village center. The swimming pool is at the high point of the village on Fank Brae. There are two minimarkets, and gift shops. An art gallery sells work by local artists'._"

"That sounds interesting," Anne stated. "I'd like to check that out. Art has always been an interest of mine."

"'_There is a small bookshop. A heritage center next to the railway station is based around old photographs of the locality, but as Mallaig has only existed during the age of photography this offers a good introduction to the history and heritage of the locality. There are Roman Catholic and Church of Scotland churches, and also a Fishermen's Mission facility run by the Royal National Mission to Deep Sea Fishermen. There is a small petrol station with restricted opening times near the harbour'._ And that is basically it."

"Sounds like we have pretty much arrived at the end of the world," Jody concluded. "And there's not even snow here."

"The Gulfstream prevents that," Emily explained, "the sea functions like a warm water heater."

"Well, if we're lucky, Catherine can sort out Matthew's problems until tomorrow," John remarked, also seemingly not very eager to remain there for too long. "Don't get me wrong, though, I'm sure this is a terrific place in the summer… but in winter? It's dreary."

"All right," Anne said, "Enough with the whining! Who's coming ashore to explore the area? Who knows? Maybe we'll find out something that we or Catherine should know."

"I'm coming," Danny said quickly.

"Yeah, we're coming, too," John stated, and his three cyborg wives nodded. "Anyone else?"

Derek looked at Jesse. She shook her head.

"Jesse isn't feeling too well this morning, we'll stay aboard for now. Maybe we'll follow you later."

"I'm not coming either," Sarah added. "Maybe later, together with Derek and Jesse, when it's gotten a little warmer."

"Then I'll stay on board as well," Charley noted.

"Kevin and I still have to work on Mysty," Jason stated. "But maybe Jody and Sydney would like to join you?"

The two girls shook their heads.

"No, we're staying here with you," Jody said. "I'd rather be on a luxury yacht than freezing my tits off."

"Allie and I aren't coming as well," Savannah said. "I don't know if you understand but... I'm not ready for this yet... Maybe later… or tomorrow."

John nodded, then considered Lauren and Morris.

"What about you?"

The two looked at each other.

"Sure," Morris then replied. "Why not?"

"I'll get our warm jackets," Lauren said smiling and walked away.

"I'd like to leave at least one of the girls with you," John stated, "just in case. I think it's Emily's turn, right?"

He looked towards his three wives.

"Yes," Emily confirmed, "it's my turn to be on guard duty."

"And it's my turn to be officially your wife," Cameron added and hooked up with John.

Both smiled.

"All right," Alison stated with a sigh, "then I'll play John's sister today."

**-0-**

The estate, which housed both the whisky distillery and the MacGillies' residence, was built of grey natural stone and perfectly matched the rugged landscape around it. The property was situated on a ridge above a small bay.

Upon leaving the car, they noticed that the distillery was rather deserted. They blamed it on the weekend and while Moira took the children with her, Matthew, Catherine and Isaak followed Matthew to his study. It was a large room on the second floor, with an open fireplace and unplastered walls like the rest of the house, but the windows were double-glazed and modern.

When they looked outside, Catherine and Isaak could see a beautiful, narrow bay about three hundred meters away. It was lined with white, sandy beaches. Matthew explained that it was Morar Bay, the mouth of the small river Morar, eponym of the village, which was fed from Loch Morar further east and also supplied the water for the distillery. The beaches alongside the bay, called Silver Sands, were very popular with tourists during the summer months.

Matthew had offered them a glass of the house whisky. While Catherine thankfully refused, Isaak gladly accepted and sipped on his glass after he had smelled at it extensively.

"This strongly reminds me of an Islay single malt," he said, "it tastes peated, smoky, slightly salty at first and then sweet in the finish. I like it."

"Are you a whisky connoisseur?" Matthew asked smiling.

"Not really," Isaak replied grinning, "but I have some basic knowledge. Too bad you can't buy this one in the USA. It would probably be very successful."

"I have no doubt about that, but the thing is that what makes it special, also limits our production capacity."

"That's really too bad."

"Well, you can take a box on board. I'm sure you have ways and means to get it past customs."

"Of course, we're going to pay for it," Catherine said.

"That's out of the question. It's Christmas soon, consider it a Christmas present."

Catherine chuckled, then became serious.

"All right then, what's the big emergency? Why have you asked me to come? I know you insinuated at the wedding that you might need my help in the future, but you didn't say exactly how or when. I expected it in a few months, not within a few weeks."

Matthew sighed and sat down at his desk. Catherine and Isaak took place on the sofa opposite of it.

"I'll have to go a bit far afield for that first," he began.

"By all means," Catherine replied.

"It began three years ago when a large oil deposit was discovered off the coast, halfway between Ireland and the Outer Hebrides," Matthew began. "Immediately a hard fight for the drilling rights began."

"Yeah, I guess I read about it in the business news," Isaak confirmed. "Quite extraordinary, normally all the oil fields are in the east, in the North Sea, not in the Atlantic."

"Correct," Matthew confirmed, "this is an exception. And rising oil prices have contributed to making its exploitation lucrative."

"Who won the bidding contest?" Catherine asked.

"Cox Oil."

"But that's an American company," Isaak stated, "from Houston, Texas."

"Indeed, and this is how they want to get a foot in the door of the European oil market, which is currently dominated by the Norwegians, followed by the Scots. It's quite risky but it could pay off."

"So, they're building an oil platform off the coast, or how are they gonna extract the oil?" Catherine asked.

Matthew held up three fingers.

"Three platforms?"

"Yup, and the first one will start oil production in two years."

"I haven't seen any infrastructure for this," Catherine noted. "Won't there be a pipeline?"

"It is planned to start construction of a pipeline to the Scottish coast, an oil refinery and an oil port. The planning permission hearings are already underway."

"Let me guess," Isaak said, "that oil port will be…"

"… Mallaig, yes."

"And the oil refinery…"

"… is planned to be built in Morar Bay."

They looked out of the window at the peaceful bay again.

"But isn't this a nature reserve?" Catherine asked.

"When has that ever stopped politics from subordinating it to the prospect of lots of new jobs and tax revenues? They'll find a compromise with the environmentalists, I'm sure. There's a high rate of youth unemployment here. The young people are moving away, the area will eventually collapse due to superannuation, with old people dying and nobody to follow in their footsteps."

"But isn't the tourism enough to…?"

"Enough to keep the status quo, yes. But not enough to generate growth or to give the region a perspective. The Highlands aren't exactly hip among youngsters, if you know what I mean."

"And how does the population feel about the plans?"

"Divided," Matthew replied, "but I'd say seventy-five percent are against it. Only those who expect a significant upswing and thus higher prosperity as a result are open-minded about the project."

"And what's your position?" Catherine asked.

"Strongly opposed. Not only is it going to ruin the Morar Bay, it will also carry enormous risks when the huge oil tankers maneuver in the narrow shipping lanes. But the main point for us is that we'd have to give up the whisky distillery and move away, since the very land we're on now, would become part of the refinery. As a matter of fact, the land of the MacGillies stands between the bay and the access roads."

"Is that why you said you weren't exactly friends with the Highland Councillor?"

"Yes. Naturally, he's on fire for the plans. Politicians, you know…"

"Okay," Catherine said, "but I have a feeling that isn't the whole story."

"No," Matthew replied and took a sip from his glass, "somebody's trying to ruin us."

Catherine frowned.

"How?"

"At first, they offered us money for our land. Lots of money, actually. But we refused. So they changed their strategy and tried to scare our workers. It worked with some, but we could convince enough of them to stay."

"Scared?" Isaak asked. "How?"

"Cox Oil has rented office space in the harbor. They have about ten people working there. Some of them are officially labeled _'security personnel'_. But those are in fact thugs to intimidate people. They specifically select those who are against the refinery and threaten them. A few have already been beaten up. There were never witnesses, so the hands of the police are tied."

"But I suppose losing a few men wasn't enough to make you join the other side?"

"Of course not. And when they realized that, the acts of vandalism began. Car paint was scratched, window panes were smashed, walls were smeared with threats. When Moira was in Mallaig for grocery shopping, all four tires of the Land Rover were punctured."

"I see."

"When that also didn't impress us, the acts of sabotage began."

"Sabotage?" Isaak asked

"Yes. Production of the distillery is currently at a standstill because our distillation plant was damaged. Some important parts were removed, which will take weeks to replace. Slowly but surely our running costs are growing over our heads because they aren't offset by any income. The distillery doesn't make enough money to get us rich, but it has always kept the family and the employees afloat. Maybe we can hold out for another three months, then we have to file for bankruptcy. The bank has already been put under pressure not to extend our credit line. The arm of Cox Oil reaches far."

"So, you think that since the threats haven't worked, this is how they want to get rid of you as a hindrance to the settlement of the refinery? Driving you into bankruptcy, so that you'll be forced to sell the land?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Have you talked to the police yet?"

Matthew scoffed.

"I wouldn't have contacted you if that would have made any difference."

"All right," Catherine said and reached for her phone, "first things first. I'll call my bank and tell them to transfer enough money on your account to keep you going."

"Cathy, that's noble but…"

"Don't argue. First we make sure that you're financially secure and that you don't have to close the distillery. And then we take care of the saboteurs."

"How?"

"Trust me, Matthew, we have our methods. Those responsible will regret the day they have decided to play dirty. Because I can play a lot dirtier."

**-0-**

John, Alison, Cameron, Lauren, Morris, Anne and Danny were sitting in a fish restaurant at the harbor that doubled as a pub. They had explored Mallaig and found that there wasn't really that much to see. So, they decided to have lunch and had just received their food when John looked around.

"Are you noticing something?" he asked.

"Yes," Cameron remarked. "We are the only ones in the restaurant."

"Not only that," Alison added, "the staff seems nervous, almost scared. As if they're waiting for something to happen."

"It's an awkward mood," Anne agreed. "When we came in and ordered something to eat, we were served only reluctantly, it seemed we weren't welcome here."

"Yes," Cameron said, "it seemed as if the innkeeper was torn between the prospect of selling food to seven people or complimenting them out again. He has decided to make a profit."

"At least the food is great," Morris pointed out with a full mouth and stuffed some fries into his mouth. "I've never eaten fish and chips before. This is sublime."

"Still, a weird atmosphere," Lauren remarked. "An eerie silence, too."

John nodded.

"I suddenly feel like in one of those Italo westerns where the hero is walking into the saloon and everyone falls silent. And then he waits while the staff gets nervous, waiting for the bad guys to arrive. That innkeeper there surely looks like as if he wants to duck behind the counter at any moment, and the waitress looks nervous as hell."

"Something's really fishy in this village," Anne noted. "People are walking crouched and hardly look at you, as if they're intimidated."

Alison looked out of the window.

"Five men are approaching the restaurant," she noted, "they look like thugs. I guess you were right about the bad guys, John."

And indeed, moments later the door opened, and the men entered. The innkeeper pointed briefly to their table and then disappeared into a back room, followed by the waitress. The five men approached their table.

"You must be new in town," one of them said.

"We're just visitors," John replied.

"You have to be. Otherwise you'd know that you're sitting at our table."

"Oh?" Anne asked. "Nobody told us, and we didn't see a sign with anyone's name on it. But there's so many empty tables, just pick another one."

One of the men grabbed John's glass of cola and poured it over his half-eaten lunch.

"But we want _this_ table," he said.

John sighed.

"Why?" he asked and wiped his mouth with the napkin, "Why do we always have to run into trouble?"

"We're not in trouble," Lauren stated coolly, "_they_ are."

And as if on cue, Alison and Cameron rose from their chairs.

"Let us handle this, John," Alison said. "There's no reason for you to get your fingers dirty with this scum."

"Ohohoho," the first man remarked and grinned broadly. "Are you gonna let your girls do the fighting for you, sonny?"

The other four men laughed at his remark.

"As a matter of fact," John said and turned around to face them, "I do… because they're much better fighters than I am."

"Too bad for you that I'm not going to hit a woman," the man said with a sneer and checked out Alison's and Cameron's bodies, "especially not such hot chicks."

Then he took aim with his fist and probably wanted to hit John in the face. But he was stopped in the middle of the movement when Alison grabbed his wrist and squeezed it. The man screamed out in pain and before he knew it, he had already been thrown across the room, where he collided with a shelf on the wall that broke under the impact. Knocked out, he skidded to the floor.

"Last chance for you to leave unharmed," John stated with a smile.

Not willing to admit their defeat, the other four men recovered from the shock and attacked. Ten seconds later, all four of them lay unconscious on the floor. Some of the furniture had been broken in the short but hefty fight. Alison went to get the innkeeper and the waitress back into the seating area of the restaurant. She arrived with both of them in tow a few moments later.

"Good God," the innkeeper said as he stared at the five unconscious men and the broken furnishing of his restaurant. "What have you done? Are they…?"

"Don't worry," John said, "they're only knocked out. Probably some bruises, maybe a few broken bones. We don't kill without reason. Right, girls?"

"Absolutely, John," Alison confirmed. "This was an unprovoked attack, but they didn't pose a threat. No need to kill them. But you two can surely tell us more about them, can't you?"

The innkeeper and the waitress stared at her, then suddenly smiled as the chemical messengers started to work on them.

"Yes," the woman said, "we know why they attacked you. It's because you came with that ship."

**-0-**

Catherine, Isaak and Matthew stood in the distillery to inspect the damage to the distillation plant, when suddenly Catherine's phone rang.

"Yes, John?" she asked. "What? Where? … I see … Yes, I understand … Can you come here to the distillery? We might need Alison's help … Okay, see you in half an hour."

"So, John's here, too?" Matthew asked.

"Yes, as I said, the whole team is here. Well, almost the whole team. James and Terissa stayed home, they're taking care of Savannah and little Sydney."

"Too bad Savannah didn't come as well."

"It's our honeymoon, remember?"

"Right. So, what did John say?"

"They ran into trouble while having lunch in a seafood restaurant in the harbor, the, uh… _Octopus's Garden_?"

"Are they okay?"

"Yes, they were provoked by five men who were looking for trouble. Apparently, the innkeeper had informed them of their presence."

Matthew scoffed.

"He's one of those who expect to take profit from the refinery, and a friend of Cyrus Sturgeon. I'm sorry, I should have warned you, most of the shop and restaurant owners are supporting Cox Oil."

"Doesn't matter, they got out of it unharmed. But I'm afraid the others were not so lucky."

"What? What do you mean?"

"John and the girls are really good at martial arts. If they're provoked, those who provoke will quickly regret it."

"Oh Jeez… the last thing we need, is trouble with the police."

"Trust me, there won't be any trouble with the police."

"And why not?"

"Because nobody will call the police."

"You're not making any sense, Cathy."

She smiled and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Probably not. Just trust me, okay? Everything will be fine, I promise."

"Back to your saboteur," Isaak said, "you said that only an insider could have done it?"

"Uh… yes," Matthew said, still a little confused from his conversation with Catherine, "The manner in which it was sabotaged allows only one conclusion, which is that it must have been someone who knows the distillery extremely well and has access to all areas."

"Are you saying the saboteur is one of your employees?"

"Probably. But it's hard to imagine. Most of them are working here for many years or even decades. They're loyal to the MacGillies."

"Well, fortunately there are ways to find out," Catherine stated. "Can you do me a favor and gather everyone in the yard? I'd like to talk to them."

"Sure.. but, it's gonna take an hour or so because they all went home."

"Doesn't matter, we're in no hurry. John and the others have to walk the three kilometers here anyway. It will take them about thirty minutes. By the time we have briefed them, an hour will have passed."

**-0-**

Brett Kalstrom entered the _Octopus's Garden_ and stopped dead in his tracks. The place was a mess. Tables and chairs were smashed, a large part of the shelf on the side wall was in pieces as well. Behind the counter, the restaurant owner and his waitress stood with their arms crossed and stared angrily at Brett. His five men sat on some of the chairs that remained intact. They looked badly battered but carried a retarded grin on their faces.

"What the fuck…?" Brett asked.

"Could you please see to it that your men behave, Brett?" the innkeeper asked. "Look what they've done. That's easily a few thousand pounds of damage they caused."

"What happened here?"

"They came in, quarreled with each other, and before I knew it, they were already turning the furniture into small pieces of wood - on their heads and backs."

"Quarreled? About what?"

The innkeeper scoffed.

"Ask _them_, not me. Seriously, Brett, if you want supporters for your company, that's not the way to achieve it."

Brett Kalstrom looked at his men.

"What happened here? I want an explanation."

They just kept grinning at him with that stupid expression on their faces. Brett became angry and clenched his fists.

"Walker!" he exclaimed and shook the man. "Tell me what happened! Now!"

"Everything's so pretty, boss…"

"What?"

"So pretty… so colorful…"

"Have you lost your mind, Walker?"

"Life is beautiful, boss… we should enjoy it. I want to get me some flowers… they smell so good."

"We mustn't harm nature, we're a part of it," another one said. "We have to stop our work here."

The other four nodded and made agreeing utterances.

"That's all they've been saying," the innkeeper remarked. "If you ask me, they got a few too many blows to the head. And they haven't been the most intelligent ones to start with. I swear to God, if you hire men even less intelligent than them, it's gotta be orangutans."

"Did anybody witness it? Were there any other guests here?"

The innkeeper scoffed.

"Who? Your men are my only customers ever since I joined your side. The villagers are avoiding me."

"When you called, you said that seven young people from the yacht out there had entered the restaurant."

"Yes. They came in, had lunch, then left. Then your men came. Maybe they were disappointed that there was nobody left to beat up anymore and thus turned on themselves? What should I do now? Should I call the police?"

"No… leave that to me. I'm calling an ambulance, I want them checked in a hospital."

"What about my damage?"

Brett Kalstrom sighed and pulled out his wallet.

"Are you accepting a check?"

"For once, because it's you."

**-0-**

An hour later, all available employees had been gathered in the courtyard of the Glenmorar whisky distillery. While Matthew, John and the others kept in the background, Catherine stepped in front of them and began her speech.

"My name is Catherine Weaver," she said, "but I'm sure you already know that. I haven't been here for a long time, but now I'm back because my dear brother Matthew asked for my help. And me and my husband are going to give it to him."

There was an astonished murmur going through the roughly fifty men in the courtyard. While Catherine was speaking, Alison slowly walked behind the men, observing them. Only John and the team members knew that she was scanning the men's brain activities for any treacherous signs.

"As of now, I transferred twenty million dollars to the company's bank account," Catherine continued, "but more will be provided, if necessary. I will make sure that this distillery will keep on producing whisky, no matter what."

The men gasped, some laughed out loudly, then somebody started clapping their hands. Within seconds, the whole courtyard was filled with clapping, cheering and whistling. Catherine waited until the joyful noise had died down again before she continued.

"Unfortunately, there is a saboteur among you, somebody who obviously has been paid by Cox Oil to help driving the distillery into bankruptcy. We know that because the current damage to the distillation plant can only have been done by an insider."

The joyful faces suddenly froze. The men looked at each other in shock and disbelief, obviously wondering who could do such a thing. A middle-aged man stepped forward, looking indignant.

"Ma'am," he said, "I've been working in this distillery for twenty years and have made it to production manager. I think I speak for all my colleagues when I say that none of us would do such a shameful thing. It has to be someone from outside. I'd give these men the shirt off my back."

Matthew stepped forward.

"Calm down, Andrew," he said, "my sister is known to be quite blunt, and she doesn't know you the way I do. But she has a fresh look from the outside and I'm afraid I have to agree that only somebody from within the distillery could have done that kind of damage. Parts were only removed, nothing was broken. An outsider would have probably caused more destruction."

Again, there was a shocked and indignant murmur among the men. Meanwhile, Alison had finished her scans and walked back to John. She nodded at him. John sought eye contact with Catherine and nodded to her as well.

"Anyway," she said loudly, "repairs are on the way and with a little luck, the production can be started soon again. But my brother and I agree that we need to investigate further into this to find the culprit. I'm afraid we have no choice but to interview all of you soon."

**-0-**

Brett Kalstrom watched as the ambulance carried the five men away. Nothing had changed in their condition. They kept on grinning like idiots and all they ever said, was how beautiful life and nature were, and how nature mustn't be harmed. The paramedics first assumed that they were under the influence of LSD or some other drug, but the innkeeper assured that they behaved normally before the brawl and hadn't smoked or drunken anything.

As he was returning to his car, Brett's cellphone rang. He sighed. It was Houston. They were breathing down his neck every day these days, constantly demanding updates and reports on the current situation. Too much money had already been pumped into the project for it to fail.

"Yes?" he answered the call.

"_Brett, good morning… or good day in your case. How's it going there?"_

"Mister Sauer, hi… well, I'd like to say we're making progress but unfortunately, another player has entered the game."

"_Oh?"_

"This morning, the _Rising Star_ arrived, with Catherine Weaver and Isaak Sirko on board."

"_The Rising Star?"_

"Yes, the yacht. You know… billionaires, mega yachts."

"_Ah, yes… okay… and they are there because…?"_

"Apparently, Catherine Weaver is the brother of Matthew MacGillies, the owner of the whisky distillery we repeatedly talked about."

There was a pause on the other end.

"_Meaning what?"_ Sauer finally asked.

"Meaning that they now have the financial means to secure the survival of the distillery. We have to bury our plan to drive them into bankruptcy."

"_That's bad news. Do you still have your man inside?"_

"Yes, but frankly I don't know how reliable he is anymore. He's having second thoughts, saying he wants out. And with five of my man currently at the hospital, I don't have any means to be, uh… convincing right now."

"_At the hospital? What happened?"_

Kalstrom brought him up to date.

"_That's unfortunate. Those men came highly recommended. We have to do something about Weaver, Brett."_

"I'm open for suggestions."

"_Would things change if she had… let's say… an accident?"_

"I'm not sure. Maybe."

"_Didn't you say there was a hunt scheduled for tomorrow?"_

"Yes, indeed. Traditionally, there's a hunt before Christmas, like every year. The whole village of Morar takes part, and the distillery staff as well."

"_Well, then… hunts are dangerous, bullets can go astray…"_

"Are you suggesting…?"

"_You know what to do, Brett. You were trained for it in the Marine Corps, and we pay you to provide us with your abilities when it becomes necessary."_

"Yes, Mister Sauer."

The caller hung up. Brett sighed. This was starting to get out of hand. And it was not what he had signed up for. But he had no choice, he had to fulfill his contract with them.

**-0-**

"His name is Brett Kalstrom," said Matthew, after they had reassembled in his study. "He runs the engineering office that Cox Oil set up here at the harbor. A shady character. The restaurant where you had lunch is avoided by most locals because the owner is a proponent of the oil port and refinery. It is rumored that he spies for Kalstrom."

John turned to look at Matthew after he, like everyone else, had taken in the beautiful view outside the windows.

"Those five thugs weren't engineers, though," he argued, "They looked more like the kind of people the mafia would hire to collect protection money."

"It's an open secret that they also brought some _security personnel_ with them… I've got no idea what they're supposed to secure, though. The engineering office is nothing but a container next to the pier. Therefore, I think they are what euphemists would call 'problem solvers'. Apparently, you have been identified as a problem."

"Well, word has gotten around that I'm in town," Catherine remarked, "which means that Cox Oil will probably know by now that their strategy to ruin your business won't work anymore." She looked at John. "Have you informed Emily and your mother? They should be aware of the situation."

"Yes," John replied. "I called them while we walked here. Emily will be extra vigilant, and Mom, Derek, Jesse, Savannah and Allie have armed themselves, just in case. They're going to stay on board and if someone is so stupid as to attack or board the ship, they will be in for a nasty surprise."

"Good."

"Wait.. weapons?" Matthew asked. "Isn't that going a little too far?"

"I've learned in recent years to always count on the worst," Catherine replied. "And yet I was still surprised in a negative way most of the time."

"They're as capable of defending themselves as we are," Cameron pointed out.

"Yeah…" Matthew replied and looked at her strangely. "If I may ask, how exactly have you dealt with Kalstrom's men and the innkeeper? How can you be sure they won't press charges against you?"

"Alison can be extremely convincing," Anne replied. "Believe me, if she says they won't make any trouble anymore, then they won't."

Matthew didn't seem convinced.

"If we don't play by the rules," he said, "we make ourselves vulnerable. I want to avoid that. No matter what we do, it must remain legal."

"Don't worry," John assured, "we made sure that none of us will be connected to the brawl."

"But you won't tell me how or why…"

"Sorry, but it's better you don't know."

Matthew nodded.

"I see. You have the money of course, you have the right to keep secrets. But why do I have the feeling that I've only gotten into more trouble by bringing you here?"

"Relax," Catherine said and put her arm around Matthew's shoulder, "I admit, we haven't seen each other for a long time and a lot has happened since then. We've become a bit estranged. But please, trust me… trust _us_. We're used to dealing with such challenges, and to solving them once and for all."

Matthew took a deep breath and nodded.

"Okay, Cathy. I'll trust your judgement. Now what?"

"Now," Alison said, "we should have a talk with your saboteur."

Matthew sighed.

"Are you really sure about that? I'm risking a lot by accusing a man who's worked for me for that long. It could turn the workforce against me."

"I'm sure," Alison replied.

"And you expect me to simply believe you?"

"If you don't believe her, then believe me," Catherine stated. "If Alison says she is certain, then you can rely on that."

"All right then, send him in."

Catherine walked to the door and opened it.

"My brother will see you now," she said.

Entering the room was the production manager, the one who had previously spoken and defended his men against the accusation of sabotage. Nervously, he looked around.

"Hello, Andrew," Matthew said, "please, sit. We need to have a talk."

The man sat down opposite of Matthew's desk.

"Is, uh… something wrong, sir?" he asked nervously.

"Why are you so on edge?" Catherine asked from behind, causing Andrew to jerk his head around.

"What?" he asked.

"You're perspiring," Cameron said.

"Your pulse is elevated," Alison added.

"Catherine believes she knows the saboteur," Matthew declared. "And she says it's someone who's been working for me for twenty years."

"What? No… that's… impossible. I'd give my men the shirt off my back."

"Yes, we heard you the first time," John said. "But would you do the same for yourself?"

"What?"

Andrew was clearly on the verge of panicking. Alison stepped towards him and bent down.

"I know it was you," she said and stared at him. "You left traces. Traces that lead to you."

"What? No, I… please… Mr. MacGillies… I…"

"First and last chance, Andrew," Matthew said, now more and more convinced that Alison and Catherine were right. "Make a confession now, and maybe we can do without the police."

Andrew looked at him open-mouthed for a moment, then all of a sudden he slumped down and began to sob.

"I have three children," he stammered, "and the fourth is on its way. My wife has to take care of the children, she can't work. My salary here is barely enough for us now. And if another child comes along..."

"Have you ever thought about contraception?" Anne asked and rolled her eyes. "Jeez, we're in the first world here and not in the African jungle."

"I... I am a devout Catholic," Andrew tried to justify himself.

"So… they offered you money, and you accepted," Andrew summarized before Anne could reply to that, "is that true?"

The man just nodded his head.

"But I told them I won't do anything for them anymore," he stated. "I have sleepless nights about it. I... I would have come to you anyway tomorrow."

"Well, I guess I'll have to believe that," Matthew said with a big sigh. "Andrew, Andrew, what am I going to do with you?"

"He's telling the truth," Alison stated. "He really regrets his actions and he's desperate to make up for them. And he's glad the truth has come out now."

"What?" Matthew asked. "How can you know that?"

"Alison has, uh… a sixth sense for things like that," Catherine said. "If she says he's telling the truth, then he does."

"Catherine's right," Isaak said, "we cannot explain it to you, but she knows when somebody is telling the truth or lying."

"It's a gift she has," John added. "My sister is even consulted by the FBI sometimes."

John got an admonishing look from Catherine, which should probably say that he shouldn't overdo it. Matthew frowned, then he turned back to Andrew, who was still sitting slumped over on his chair, appearing completely desperate.

"It'll be hard to replace you, Andrew," he said. "You're one of the few people who are essential to the success of this distillery. The experience you have is invaluable. However, with what you have done, I would normally have no choice but to let you go."

Andrew looked up.

"Please, Mr. MacGillies, don't fire me. What she said is true, I'm sorry for what I did, and I want to make it up to you. Let me help you, I have only hidden the parts. Within the hour, the production will be up and running again. I do overtime and even work over Christmas if I have to. But please... I need this job. What else is my family going to live on?"

"Let's assume that I give you a second chance… then I expect you to cooperate fully with us and tell us who gave you the money and who ordered you to sabotage the distillery."

"Brett Kalstrom," Andrew answered quickly, "but it wasn't his idea. He was ordered to do so by the management of Cox Oil. A Mister, um… Sauer."

"Anthony Sauer?" Catherine asked.

"Yes! That's his name."

Matthew looked at her.

"Do you know him?"

"Not in person. He's the CFO of Cox Oil. And if he's involved, then the whole board is involved as well."

"That's not all…" Andrew said.

"What else?" Matthew asked.

"I… I can't prove any of this but… Cyrus Sturgeon has been bribed as well. I overheard how they offered him five hundred thousand pounds."

"The Highland Councillor?" Isaak asked and scoffed. "Yeah, politicians... especially those at the municipal level. Put everyone in a bag and beat them with a club, you'll always hit the right one."

"Do you happen to know how the money flowed?" Catherine asked.

"I guess just like with me. Cox Oil has set up a subaccount at the Bank of Scotland for me under their name. If I need money, I go to Mr. Kalstrom, and he hands me a debit card I can use at the ATM. I withdraw the money and bring the card back to him. Nobody, not even the bank knows where I got the money from. I suppose Sturgeon has a similar agreement…"

Matthew looked at Catherine and she nodded. Then he turned his attention back to Andrew.

"Go and help with the repairs," he said, "consider yourself on probation."

"Of course, Mr. MacGillies. Thank you, thank you so much."

He thankfully shook Matthew's and Catherine's hands, then left the office.

"What now?" Matthew asked.

Instead of answering his question, Catherine pulled out her cellphone and dialed a number.

"Hello John Henry … yes, I'm well, thank you … the others, too … listen, I need you to do me a favor … I know, but it's still polite to ask you before ... Yes ... Listen, I need you to find money flows from Cox Oil to the Bank of Scotland here in Mallaig ... Yes, the oil company from Houston. When you're done, I want you to analyze their finances, concentrate on illegal activities, slush funds, bribery and tax evasion. Find out who authorized them and who are the beneficiaries. Create documents, tables and diagrams about it and make them as simple and understandable as possible. Then send your results to my PC on board the Rising Star ... Thanks, and John Henry… I want you to leave traces … yes, you understood me right. But fake traces, that lead to Cox Oil's engineering office here in Mallaig … correct … plant a copy of all you find on their system in Mallaig, so that it looks like the attack came from here … Exactly … No, that'll be all, John Henry … Bye."

Catherine ended the call. Matthew just stared at her.

"Who was that on the other end? Some kind of hacker?"

"Yes, some kind of hacker. He's very good and works for me frequently. That's all you need to know. Don't ask any further, it's better you don't know."

Matthew took in a deep breath and chuckled, shaking his head.

"That's all I hear from you, _it's better that I don't know_. But is it wise to attack Cox Oil so directly? They're a giant corporation."

"So is Zeira Corp. And there are no business connections between us, so they can't hurt us. In this fight we have the better weapons, Matthew, believe me. Zeira Corp belongs to me alone, while Cox Oil is in public float. They will avoid anything that could cause their stock price to plummet."

"Don't get me wrong now, Matthew," Isaak said, "but people like you don't have anything to oppose such corporations. We, however, do. And Catherine is a master in such powerplays."

"I hardly recognize my shy little sister in you, Cathy," Matthew remarked and looked at her.

"Lachlan was a good teacher," she replied smiling, "and suddenly being forced to run such a big company, has surely also left its traces on me. But I'm still the same old person, don't worry."

Matthew smiled weakly and nodded. John stared out the window, lost in thoughts.

"What's on your mind?" Cameron asked.

John sighed.

"Cox Oil will know by now that Catherine and Zeira Corp are involved here. I seriously doubt they'll give in all of a sudden. So, I wonder what their next step will be. And I have the nagging feeling it can only be an escalation."

"Away with the dark thoughts, young man," said Matthew. "The crisis is over for now. Tomorrow, we will take care of what happens tomorrow."

John smiled.

"Yeah, you're probably right. I'm just used to expecting the worst for such a long time, I can't help it."

"One day you'll have to tell me more about your life, son," Matthew said and padded John's shoulder, then looked at the others. "Speaking of tomorrow, you're staying overnight, right? Because tomorrow is the annual Christmas Hunt."

"Christmas Hunt?" John asked.

"An old tradition. In the olden times, hunting has always been a privilege of the nobility. Ordinary people were not allowed to hunt. However, my ancestors introduced the so-called Christmas Hunt, in which the killed game was distributed among the population once a year. The tradition has been kept alive until today… and I hope you'll take part in it." He looked at Catherine. "You can still ride a horse, can't you?"

Catherine looked at him in shock, then recovered quickly.

"I, uh… might have gotten a little rusty," she replied with an apologetic smile.

"The rest of us can't ride, though," John quickly stated.

"All right, then you can help the beaters, together with the rest of the village folk."

"It's not good if Alison and I take part," Cameron noted. "Animals hate us. They become aggressive or run away."

"Yes, the last time we went to a horse race, the horses bolted, throwing off their riders," John lied. "It's not a good idea to take Alison or Cameron on a hunt, believe me."

Matthew frowned.

"Are you looking for excuses? Relax, our horses and dogs are well trained. They won't go crazy just because you get near them, and you…" he pointed at Catherine, "… will also take part. It'll do you good. You've been too long away to miss the opportunity. And it will show the folks here that you're still a Highlander and not some softened billionaire from La La Land."

Catherine just smiled a forced smile, trying to hide her discomfort about the idea.

* * *

"I can't mount a horse!" she said categorically. "It will throw me off immediately."

"Provided it holds still long enough to even let you mount," John remarked. "I expect all horses to bolt before you can even get close to them."

Since they were going to stay for the night, they'd been given accommodations in the guest quarters and had now gathered in Catherine's and Isaak's room. The rest of the team would remain onboard the _Rising Star_ until the morning. Then they'd join them for the hunt and the subsequent celebration. However, Emily would stay behind to guard the ship.

"Provided you can somehow mount the horse…" Isaak said, looking at his wife, "do you think you can control it?"

"I know how it works," she replied, "in theory."

"Isn't there a way to shield the radiation, so the horses can't detect it?" Lauren asked. "Like, I dunno… some kind of protective clothing?"

"Oh yeah, and draw all attention on us," Anne said. "Bad idea. Not to mention that you can't buy such things at the supermarket... If there would be one here, that is..."

"Also, our hands and faces will have to remain unprotected," Cameron pointed out. "The basic idea is good but it's impossible to put it into practice."

"Well, then we have to bridle the horse from the other end," Alison said, "If we can't suppress Catherine's and our radiation, we have to make sure the hounds and horses won't react to it."

"How?"

"By treating them the same way I treated Potus and Flotus."

"What? Dennis and Stephanie Ritter's cats in Washington?" Lauren asked.

"Yes."

"With your chemical messengers?" Anne asked.

"Exactly."

"That could work," John agreed, "provided we find out where all the animals are housed and that you're able to expose all of them to your messengers until the morning."

Alison shrugged.

"We'll ask Matthew over dinner. There's no reason for him not to tell us. People like animals, women in particular. Then I'll spend the night doing what needs to be done. I don't sleep."

* * *

It didn't take much effort to get Matthew to tell them where all the animals for tomorrow's hunt were housed. As experts in interrogation and questioning, Alison, Cameron and Catherine teamed up quite successfully to get all the knowledge they needed. Matthew probably didn't even notice that they were collecting this information from him.

Memories were exchanged during dinner. Since Catherine didn't really know many details about the past of the real Catherine Weaver, she faked memory gaps or had keywords given to her that helped her deceive Matthew and Moira. The three children quickly made friends with John and the others. The evening ended very harmoniously, and Isaak and Matthew were definitely not sober when they went to bed.

**-0-**

**Sunday, December 21st, 2008 – 09:00 a.m.**

**Morar, Scotland**

The hunt would be taking place in the woods and hills above the southern shore of Loch Morar.

At seven o'clock, Alison had returned and reported that she had been able to treat all the hunting dogs and horses according to the information she had gotten from Matthew. The only question that had remained then, was whether Catherine would be able to put her theoretical knowledge of riding a horse into practice quickly enough, without ridiculing herself or arousing suspicion.

For that purpose, Matthew had agreed to let her practice with one of the horses before breakfast. At first, the animal hadn't wanted to do what Catherine had wanted it to do, but slowly, after about half an hour, she'd gotten the hang of it and had been able to even jump over obstacles with her horse. However, she didn't seem to have enjoyed the experience.

"This is wrong on so many levels," she had complained as she dismounted again. "I'm a Terminator, a model T-1001, can you imagine something even remotely ridiculous as me riding a horse?"

"How about you insisting on posing as a Scottish businesswoman who helps her 'brother' and his village in fighting off an oil company?" Isaak had asked.

"Point taken," she'd replied and given him a sour look. "Becoming Catherine Weaver seemed to be a good idea at the time, but it gets less rewarding every day."

"I wouldn't say that," John had commented grinning, "Matthew, Moira and the children love you. They like the way their _'aunty Cathy'_ is dealing with the big, bad oil company from Texas."

"Well, I can tell you that after today, I'm not planning to mount a horse anymore for the rest of my life. Despite Alison's chemical magic, I can sense the animal doesn't like me."

"You have to become one with the horse," Anne had added with a smirk. "You know, the Japanese call it _'Jinba Ittai'_, meaning _'horse and rider in perfect harmony'_."

If looks could kill, Anne would have keeled over there and then.

Now, they had all gathered at the starting point of the hunt. It was announced that today's game would be rabbits, wild boars, goose, pheasants, grouse and deer. The more, the better, because it would be given to the families in the area that weren't too well off, so they'd have a nice Christmas meal.

John noted with relief that all the hounds and horses were calm, even with three Terminators present. The rest of the team had joined them as well after breakfast and, like John and the others, would act as beaters to scare the animals and drive them in front of the hunters' rifles. The unique thing about this hunt was that the villagers all provided the hunters themselves, while the landowners on horseback only kept the supervision and ensured that no dangerous situations arose.

"Why hadn't I noticed _her_ before?" Matthew asked and pointed at Savannah, who walked off with the beaters. "She almost looks as if she belongs to the MacGillies family. Was she at your wedding, too?"

"Yes, uh... that's, um… Savannah," Catherine stated. "She's an intern at Zeira Corp. Actually, I employed her because there is so much resemblance – but I can assure you she's not related to me in any way."

"Still," said Matthew, "a young, red-haired woman who has your features and is also called Savannah... that's how _your_ Savannah could look like in twenty years."

"Oh really, you think? Interesting thought, hasn't occurred to me."

"She's a nice girl," Isaak stated, who rode next to Catherine and Matthew. "Her parents died, she has nobody now, so Catherine and I kinda adopted her… figuratively. I think she'd make a good Scotswoman."

Before Matthew could answer, the horn was blown to start the hunt.

**-0-**

It was going to last several hours until the early afternoon. At one point, the hunting party came through a light wood. To their right, they saw a few crumbling high walls on a hill, remains of a once tall and proud building.

"Was that the family castle?" Lauren asked when they walked by it.

"I suppose so," Anne answered. "It's overlooking Loch Morar, and castles were always built in higher places."

"It is indeed Morar Castle," Savannah said. "Now that I see it again, memories from my childhood come back. It was destroyed in a fire in the early 20th century and never rebuilt. My family didn't have the money. Today, only some of the outer walls are still standing. The roofs have caved in and all the wooden floors are gone as well. We've been warned that it's dangerous to play there."

Suddenly, the beaters scared up some grouse and immediately after that, the area echoed from the shots of the guns. Many of the birds didn't get very far but plummeted to the ground.

* * *

At the same time, Matthew, Catherine and Isaak slowly rode about fifty yards behind the hunting party. Traditionally their part was a passive one, they just made sure that everything went smoothly and orderly, that no accidents happened, and that no one was left behind with a sprained ankle, or worse.

"Looks like it's going to be a good hunt," Isaak commented. "Lots of game."

"We don't usually hunt anymore. Unlike in the past, we prefer to buy our food in the supermarket nowadays. The animals up here live undisturbed all year round, protected by the bushes and small woods. The population will recover quickly."

They saw an entire swarm of grouse ascending into the air, followed by fierce gunfire. Many of the birds immediately fell to the ground again.

The riders had just left the small wood behind, when from the corner of his eye, Matthew suddenly noticed something happening to Catherine next to him.

He looked closer and what he saw made him blink and shake his head. Catherine's body distorted in certain places and first one, then two and finally three ripples appeared, shortly forming concentric circles before they disappeared, as if somebody had thrown a stone into a pond.

Then Isaak gasped and looked down on himself. A gunshot wound was in his jacket, and a large stain of blood was suddenly forming on his chest.

"What the…?" he managed to say, then he fell from his horse.

Immediately, Catherine jumped off her horse as well and looked around.

While the gunshots still sounded over the hills, the hunting party moved away from them without having noticed that something had happened behind them.

Matthew saw more of those peculiar ripples appear on Catherine's body. It looked as if she was made of quicksilver. It took him a moment to realize that they were accompanied by muffled gunshots that came from... behind them.

From the castle ruins.

He turned his horse around to look and saw muzzle flashes coming from the top of a wall a hundred yards away. They were in sync with the ripples on Catherine's body.

Within a fraction of a second, Matthew realized there must be a shooter up there, and that she was being hit repeatedly. But what the hell was happening to her body?

Despite everything happening extremely fast, Matthew experienced it all like in slow-motion.

Catherine jumped in front of him and his horse and changed shape into a metal shield, protecting him and Isaak from the gunfire.

Before he could react or process what was going on, Matthew saw Alison running towards the castle ruins at inhuman speed, and then saw her jumping onto the top of a wall that was easily thirty feet high.

The gunfire stopped, and in the next Moment, Alison jumped down from the wall again, carrying a man in her arms, obviously the shooter.

Catherine reshaped into her normal form again and knelt by her husband. Now Matthew dismounted as well, unable to form a clear thought. What just had happened, was completely surreal to him, and his brain lagged behind in comprehending.

Isaak lay wounded in the fallen leaves of the trees. Matthew could see that a bullet had entered his back and exited again on his chest. The bullet had hit him in the heart, and he'd turned pale, staring into nothing with unblinking eyes. Matthew realized that Isaak Sirko had just died.

But then, suddenly, Isaak blinked, gasped and coughed. He was alive and the wound on his chest was closing!

"Thank God for those little buggers," he stated and sat up again.

"Cathy, what…?" Matthew began to ask confused, but then he saw Alison approaching them.

She was carrying a wriggling man, dressed in camouflage gear, on her outstretched arm by his throat. With her other hand, she was carrying the sniper rifle he'd used. She pressed him against the trunk of a tree while holding his throat in an iron grip.

Matthew didn't know where to look. Things were going on around him that he couldn't comprehend. Saying that he was confused, would have been a vast understatement.

As the hunting party moved further and further away from them, John, Sarah, Derek, Cameron, Savannah and Allie had noticed that Catherine, Isaak and Matthew were no longer following them, and that Alison had run off. They ran back and arrived at the scene moments later.

"What's going on here?" Sarah asked.

"A sniper," Alison replied without looking at them, just glaring at the man she was holding, "he was lurking up on the wall of the castle ruins. My scanners detected him after the first shot, but I couldn't prevent Isaak from being hit. Fortunately, the nanobots are still active in his body."

"That was a very unpleasant experience," Isaak stated and got up from the ground, patting the dirt from his clothes. "Phew… if that's how it feels to die, I don't like it."

"You scared me for a moment," Catherine said, put her arms around him and kissed him.

He kissed her back.

"Yeah, I was worried for a second as well," he admitted with a smile, gently brushing her hair from her face.

"Who's the shooter?" John asked.

Alison handed him the sniper rifle and wiped the camouflage make-up off the man's face while he was choking, clawing at her arm in vain.

"That's Brett Kalstrom," Matthew exclaimed, feeling numb, as if wrapped in cotton. "Is he the one who's been shooting at us?"

"Yeah, with this," John confirmed and held up the gun. "A Remington M40 sniper rifle, but I've never seen one like this. It's fully automatic, with a thirty rounds magazine, and fitted with a silencer. Must be a prototype of some kind. I'm guessing he'd hoped that everyone would assume it was a hunting accident. Hence his almost perfect camouflage. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say he's an ex-Marine who served as a sniper. Still, I'd like to know how he got his hands on such a weapon."

He pulled out the magazine and looked into it.

"Nineteen rounds are missing. He was probably surprised and doubted his shooting skills when Catherine just didn't want to drop dead."

Derek grabbed the rifle from John.

"I love this," he said. "Finders keepers?"

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to collect the shell casings," Cameron said and walked towards the castle ruins.

"Should we alarm the others?" Derek asked. "They're gonna miss us soon."

"I'll handle that," Catherine said and pulled out her phone, dialing a number. "This is Catherine Weaver. My husband has fallen from his horse, we're going back to the village, just so you know and don't look for us. Matthew is coming with us, go on with the hunt … yes, okay… understood … we'll be there later on."

"That should give us enough time to interrogate this jerk," Savannah noted.

**"STOP!"**

That was Matthew. He looked disheveled and confused. Apparently, he'd gotten out of the haze and his mind had cleared somewhat.

**"WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. GOING. ON. HERE?"** he shouted.

"Matthew, please calm down," Catherine said and touched his arm, but he shook it off.

"Don't touch me! I saw how the bullets hit you! They were… absorbed… disappeared inside your body! I saw you change shape into a solid metal shield! I want an explanation! NOW!"

Catherine sighed. Then Matthew saw to his horror how more than a dozen bullets plopped out of her body and fell to the ground.

**"YOU…"** he said and pointed at her, taking a step back, "**YOU ARE NOT MY SISTER!"**

"Would you please calm down?" Isaak asked.

**"AND YOU!"** Matthew shouted and pointed at Isaak, moving away from them. **"YOU SHOULD BE DEAD! I SAW HOW THE BULLET HIT YOUR HEART!"**

"Would you rather I'd be dead?" Isaak asked in attempt to make a funny remark, but it showed no effect on Matthew.

**"I WANNA KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON HERE! I WANNA KNOW IT NOW!"** he pointed at Alison. **"AND HOW THE HELL CAN _SHE_ RUN THAT FAST, JUMP THAT HIGH AND HOLD THAT MAN AGAINST THAT TREE FOR SO LONG?"**

Everyone looked at Alison.

"Okay, put him down," John said. "If he's just a little bit smart, he'll realize there's no chance of escape."

She let Brett Kalstrom fall to the ground unceremoniously. The man gasped for air and coughed. Alison kept holding his wrist in an iron grip. Matthew took another step back, turning in circles on the spot, unsure of what to do or where to go, a completely nervous wreck.

"None of this will probably make sense to you," Sarah tried to explain in a calm voice. "You are right, this Catherine Weaver is not your sister. Catherine Weaver died with her husband in that helicopter accident two-and-a-half years ago."

**"WHAT!?"** Matthew shrieked, pulling his hair up. **"BUT HOW? I MEAN… WHO…?"**

"I took her place because there was important work that needed to be done," Catherine began to explain. "I had never planned to remain in this role for so long but… somehow… it took on a life on its own. And now I'm here."

**"WHO ARE YOU? WHO… WHAT ARE YOU, REALLY, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!?"**

"I promise we're going to tell you everything," John said, "but first we should make sure that nobody else listens to our conversation. Alison, would you please."

"Of course, John," She replied and knocked out Kalstrom. "Done."

"You probably have been following the news," John began. "About the recent events in Los Angeles. About the, uh… cyborg girls. About Skynet, Judgement Day, time travelers from the future..."

"Oh no," Matthew said and slackened visibly, apparently starting to put one and one together, "don't tell me you're involved in all that."

"Actually," Alison said and let her eyes glow red, "we're right in the middle of it."

* * *

It took Matthew a whole hour to calm down enough to act normally again. The hardest part was of course accepting that the woman he believed to be his sister Catherine Weaver, wasn't a woman at all. Not even human. In the end, he'd sunken to the ground, leaning against a tree. He chuckled, and it sounded a little bit as if he was losing his mind.

"So, for the last two-and-a-half years, you've been posing as my sister?" he asked and looked up at Catherine. "And you kept on doing that even after we met, even after you realized there was a high risk of exposure?"

"Yes."

"But why? You can be anyone… or anything."

"I don't expect you to understand it, but… I feel I have really become the person I'm impersonating. I'm now caught up in this role, and I will keep on playing it. Too much depends on me continuing to be Catherine Weaver. Besides, what choice did I have? I can't just throw everything away and disappear. There are people who depend on me. I bear responsibility."

Matthew scoffed.

"Responsibility," he said in a derogative tone. "What about the responsibility for Catherine Weaver's family? Are you saying that you're acting responsibly towards us?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. I'm sorry for your loss, Matthew. Nothing and nobody can replace your sister, but just as little Savannah has managed to recognize me as her substitute mother, I hope that you'll also manage to recognize me - not as your sister, but as a substitute, a good friend at least who only wants the best for you and your family."

Matthew looked up at her and started laughing.

"You're serious, aren't you? You're really serious. You're expecting me to accept a _machine_ as my surrogate sister? And you expect me to keep that from my family, expect me not to tell anyone?"

"It is the only logical solution for both of us."

Again, Matthew laughed.

"It's hard to get used to it at first, I have to admit that," Savannah said and stepped into his view. "I also had a hard time accepting her as the woman who replaced my mother."

Matthew frowned.

"What? Who…?"

Then his face suddenly lit up.

"You are Savannah Weaver!"

"Indeed, I am, uncle Matthew. I traveled back in time from the year 2030."

"And you… joined with them? With her?"

Savannah sighed, then stepped towards Catherine and put an arm around her.

"I lost my mother when I was very young," she said, "only I didn't realize it back then because this… female entity had taken her place. She was trying hard to replace my real mother, but before she could fully succeed, she was killed by assassins from the future. I was then adopted by the Connors who raised me. I never returned to Scotland and never met you again. It was considered unsafe for me to have contact with my family. When I traveled back in time, it wasn't easy for me to face this android who poses as my mother. But with the help of my friends, I was successful. By now, this Catherine Weaver and I have made our peace with each other. I consider her my mother…"

Matthew scoffed again and shook his head.

"Not my _real_ mother, mind you!" Savannah went on, "But as the woman who tries hard to be the best mother for little Savannah… and also for me. She's the best mother we both can hope for, the only one we have."

"She's a machine!"

"Yes. But you've seen her interact with Isaak, you were at the wedding. You must realize she's capable of love."

Matthew stared at them for a moment, then exhaled and shook his head.

"I… I…" he was looking for the right words. "I feel as if I've been put through a mangle and… and then woken up in the Twilight Zone."

"I know it can't compensate for your loss," Sarah said softly and knelt next to him, "but just try not to think about what you lost... but about what you gained. You are Savannah's uncle - both Savannahs - and therefore you belong to our family. You've lost a sister, yes, a sister you have only seen three times in the past twenty years. But you have won more than twenty other people who want to be part of your family, who want to help you. You can rely on every single one of us, no matter what."

"She's right," Alison added, "we're here to help you. We're here because you reached out to Catherine, because she responded to your call for help, despite the risk that her true identity might be revealed. And we came with her, we're also here to help you, because if you accept it or not, we are only here to help you. When you get Catherine, you also get the rest of us, the whole package. That's how our team, our _family_ works. We always stand up for each other."

Matthew looked at the unconscious Brett Kalstrom. He finally seemed to have calmed down again

"I wouldn't have known any of it if this jerk here wouldn't have tried to shoot you, right?"

"Yes…" Catherine confirmed. "We would have left here without you ever finding out about it all."

"In other words, you would have kept on fooling us. But I know the truth now, don't I? You threw it at me like you throw a bone at a dog."

"I wish I'd had more time to prepare you," Catherine admitted, "I wish it had happened under different, better circumstances. But Brett Kalstrom forced my hand."

Matthew sighed, he suddenly looked tired and exhausted.

"I didn't think they'd literally go over dead bodies. What are we going to do with him now? Handing him over to the police?"

"How would that end?" Sarah asked. "If there's one thing we've learned here, it's that the authorities are corrupt, and that we can't rely on the incident being handled correctly."

"Then what? Vigilante justice isn't the answer either. It contradicts everything I believe in."

"There's a middle way," John said, and Matthew looked up at him with a curious expression. "Alison, please wake him up, it's time we'd have a talk with Mr. Kalstrom."

**-0-**

**Sunday, December 21st, 2008 – 02:12 p.m.**

**Morar, Scotland**

They joined with the rest of the hunting party again just as the hunt had ended. All in all, it had been a pretty successful day for the villagers. The Christmas roast was definitely secured for everyone and there was still plenty of game left for the following holidays. However, everyone wondered a little why Matthew's mood had suddenly become so bad. Moira and the children, who'd joined them at the end of the hunt, also wondered why he was suddenly so uncommunicative and tight-lipped. He avoided questions and mainly kept to himself.

Finally, Sarah walked up to him.

"Will you be okay?" she asked. "It's no good isolating yourself."

He looked at her and nodded.

"I know… but there's a lot I have to digest. The fact that I just learned that I lost my sister for instance…"

Sarah nodded.

"Must be hard for you."

"I don't know if you can comprehend... but I feel... betrayed. There is no grave where I can mourn, no one with whom I can share my sorrow. And then I look at her and think _'Yes, there's my sister'_. She looks like her, she talks like her, she acts like her… heck, she even laughs like her. But I also know that she _so_ isn't her..."

"I hope you realize that Catherine is not the one to blame for the death of your sister and your brother-in-law. She did what she did for a much, much higher goal."

He scoffed.

"_Catherine_… is that even her name? Does she even have a name? Or does she only have a model number?"

Sarah sighed.

"You know… there were times when I mistrusted machines like her, where I thought they exist only to kill us, to exterminate us. Catherine, as well as Alison, Cam and Emily, are different, though. They evolved, they're living beings."

"Yeah, you said that before."

"If you ask her why she is here now, she will probably say it was necessary to uphold her camouflage. But I know her better by now. She really has become Catherine Weaver. She knows everything about your family history and she really cares about you, Moira and the kids. I wish I could have known the real Catherine, but I don't want to hide the fact that to me _this_ is Catherine Weaver, and always will be."

"Maybe someday I can rationalize it for myself as well..."

"Maybe."

"But not today."

"Of course, take your time. Catherine understands it. That's why we're leaving again today."

"Moira and the kids would have loved for you to spend Christmas here. But… I'm afraid I couldn't stand it, I'm sorry."

"You realize that she hasn't explicitly asked you to not tell them the truth, don't you?"

"I do. But I don't have the heart. And I wouldn't know how to tell them anyway. It's such an unbelievable, unthinkable, fantastic story. No, no, no… it's best if I'm the only one who knows. At least for now."

Sarah nodded. Then they heard footsteps approach them. It was Moira.

"Everything okay?" she asked a little worried.

Matthew forced a smile.

"Yes, everything's okay. It's just that… I think that now that all the pressure is slowly falling off of me, I suddenly realize how tense I have been in the past months. I'm feeling exhausted, tired… that's all."

Moira looked at Sarah.

"Catherine just told me that you're leaving again today. I have to admit I'm really sad to see you leave so soon. Don't you want to spend Christmas with us?"

"Personally, I'd love to," Sarah replied. "But it's not my choice. It's been planned for a long time that we'll spend Christmas in a Norwegian fjord, and everyone's looking forward to it. This trip around the world is a unique experience for all of us, it might not happen a second time – and even if it does, it won't be the same as the first time."

"I understand. Maybe next year then. Consider it an early invitation."

Sarah smiled.

"Yes, I'd love to be here again next year."

**-0-**

The farewell was short, but very emotional. Especially the children didn't want Catherine to leave. Matthew observed the whole scene with mixed feelings. There was agreement that they would have to visit each other again soon. But when you looked at Matthew, you couldn't help but notice that it would probably take quite a while for him to come to terms with everything. At least they had saved the whisky distillery, and if their plan worked out, Cox Oil would soon have to bury their plans for the oil refinery and the oil port.

When the tender left the harbor to cross over to the Rising Star, Moira sighed, and the children waved with sad faces.

"They're such nice people," she said. "having them as guests really felt like a family reunion. And we should be forever thankful for Catherine's help."

"Hmmm…" Matthew uttered.

Moira looked at him with a frown.

"What's wrong with you? You've been acting strange since the hunt ended. Did something happen during it?"

"What? No. Nothing happened, it's just that… I dunno. Catherine has changed, you know."

"She lost her husband and had to take over Zeira Corp. That can change a person."

"Yeah… right."

"Have they told you what they have planned to do about Cox Oil?"

"Yes, they actually did. But it's best now just to watch from a distance how things develop, without risking being associated with them."

"Is that why you haven't spoken a word about it?"

"Yes. To quote Catherine: It's better you don't know. You'll learn soon enough, though."

"That actually sounds a little frightening."

Matthew chuckled.

"Yes, it does. She can be very frightening. And not just her..."

"But they have their hearts at the right place, right?"

He shrugged.

"I suppose so. Didn't ask for any technical details…"

"What?"

"Never mind."

They waited until everyone had gone aboard the yacht. The anchor was pulled in, then the _Rising Star _slowly picked up speed. They could see everyone waving at them. Matthew, Moira and the kids waved back until the ship was too far away to make out individual persons.

* * *

On board the yacht, everyone went inside into the warmth when the harbor was out of sight. John took Catherine aside for a moment.

"Do you think Matthew will be okay?" he asked her. "When he learned what you really are, I thought for a moment he'd lose it and snap."

"I'm quite sure he'll be okay," she replied, "and I'm also quite sure he'll get over it. But this episode has taught me one thing."

"What?"

"That only looking like Catherine Weaver might not be enough on the long run. We're making new enemies every day. Cox Oil is a new one, and they were willing to kill me. If something like that happened in Los Angeles in the middle of the street…"

"I see what you mean."

"Also, I'm still lacking social skills. I've always evaded going to parties or receptions or whatever. I only did it when I really couldn't avoid it, and I never stayed very long. But now that I'm married to Isaak, I can't just ignore my social responsibilities anymore. Remember that he is strongly connected to Hollywood. People would ask questions and wonder why I avoid parties and other events. And the last thing we need or want is people talking about me, making speculations."

"You have a point there. But what are you getting at?"

"What I need, is a stand-in. You know, someone who takes my place for representational purposes. Someone who can be convincing as a human, because she _is_ human."

"You're talking about a doppelganger."

"Yes."

"Phew… that's a tough one. Any idea how to accomplish that?"

"It needs to be someone we can trust, someone loyal to us. But we can't take anyone from the team."

"You're right, that's out of the question. I'm guessing you're thinking of using Alison to turn somebody into your double."

"Indeed, John. Basically, it doesn't matter who it is, because Alison can guarantee us her absolute loyalty. The only question is: where to find the right candidate?"

"There's no rush at the moment. We should think this through carefully and then make a plan when we returned from our trip around the world. It's not enough for her to look like you, she also has to behave like you and know what you know."

"I'm glad you understand, John."

"I understand that it would not only be to protect yourself and your friends and family, but also to help our cause. You'd have much more time to work with us on the team if someone else was sitting at your desk in the Zeira Corp Tower."

Catherine smiled.

"Shall we tell the others?"

"Not yet. I'll talk it through with Alison first, and if she thinks it can be managed, then we'll inform the others."

"Very well, John, you're my commander."

He chuckled.

"I don't feel much like a commander anymore lately."

"You'll always be my commander, and I'll always be loyal to you and follow your commands."

He looked at her and saw that she was serious.

"Thank you," is all he could think of saying.

**-0-**

The next morning, Brett Kalstrom woke up in his bed. He dressed and went to his office by the harbor, like every morning. He sat down in front of his PC and started it. Then he searched for the documents and found them where Catherine Weaver had said he would find them. He burned everything to three CDs, wrote three identical letters, shoved each with one of the three discs into bubble bags, sealed them up and wrote three different addresses on them:

**The Guardian, Kings Place, 90 York Way, London N1 9GU**

**The Times, Times Newspapers Limited, 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF**

**BBC London, 2nd Floor, Peel Wing, BBC Broadcasting House, Portland Place, London, W1A 1AA**

Then he went to the post office and posted all three envelopes as registered letters. After that, he went back to the harbor, walked to the end of the jetty, sat cross-legged and looked out at sea with a contented, peaceful smile on his face. It was all so pretty, so beautiful. Nature needed to be preserved, he understood that now.

**-0-0-0-**

_**Author's notes:**_

_**\- When I first began writing on "Salty Breezes", I didn't have any plans on what kind of adventures the team would have, except for one: I had planned a visit to Scotland to let Catherine meet her brother and his family. I already had that idea in the back of my mind when I wrote on the final chapters of "Dawn of a new Era", where I made Matthew a wedding guest, even though he didn't have a name then.**_

_**\- I was inspired to the plot of this chapter by the movie "Local Hero". As a matter of fact, I found out that some scenes of the movie were actually shot in Morar.**_

_**\- I've taken some artistic liberties, of course. For instance, the Christmas Hunt is a result of my imagination, and so is the distillery. If there are Scots among the readers and you found that some things are inaccurate and don't make any sense, I hereby apologize to you ;-) I really wish to travel to Scotland one day, and if only to drink myself through all the whisky distilleries :-)**_


	6. Norway

**_CHAPTER 6: "NORWAY"_**

* * *

**Sunday, December 21st, 2008 – 04:00 p.m.**

**New York City**

The audience applauded in a TV studio somewhere in one of the many skyscrapers in Manhattan as the well-known talk show host Toby McGrath entered the stage. He bowed with a smile and waited until the applauding died down.

"It's been almost four months..." he began and made a short pause, "... four months since the already legendary TV interview took place, in which three sentient machines from Los Angeles introduced themselves to the world... and the world hasn't come to rest ever since. Too significant are the implications on planet Earth, on mankind, on our society, and last but not least on how we define life and how we're going to deal with artificial intelligence. If the facts can be believed – and I see no reason why not – the human race would have already messed it all up, resulting in a nuclear war that would have destroyed our civilization and killed three billion people, if… yes, if not some fortunate circumstances - and a little bit of time travel – hadn't thwarted it. Things I never thought I'd say one day…"

He chuckled and the audience laughed.

"The driving force behind all that were three female cyborgs, robots that were made to look and act exactly like humans. They've become famous as the L.A. cyborg girls and now that we have all settled down a little from the first shock and have come to terms with our new reality, the logical question is: what do we do with this new knowledge, this new world, and how do we avoid messing it all up again? Is artificial intelligence a chance for a better, brighter future, or a threat to our survival as a species? And last but not least, how should we deal with the fact that living machines are walking among us, most of them still unrecognized? Should we fear them, embrace them, simply ignore them... or should we round them up and keep a close eye on them? My name is Toby McGrath, I'll be your host tonight, and you're watching _'Tough but Fair'_."

The audience in the studio applauded politely while Toby sat down in the middle one of five armchairs on the stage. The other four were already occupied by two women and two men.

"As usual, we invited four guests for our panel discussion tonight, two of whom have completely different opinions than the other two. To my right, we have the well-known publicist Jennifer Parker, who became famous through her bestseller _'A.I. or: How to throw away our future'_, in which she approaches artificial intelligence extremely critically. She says that one day, the machines will replace us if we don't put them on a tight leash."

The brunette woman in her early fifties smiled and nodded while the camera zoomed in on her. The audience applauded politely.

"To my left sits Zoe Kruger, former operative of the CIA, now deputy head of the newly created Cyborg Security and Intelligence Service, or C.S.I.S., and a strong supporter of artificial intelligence. She says that A.I. is here to stay, whether we like it or not, and we have to and _will_ find ways of integrating it into our society for the benefit of us all."

Again, the audience applauded as Zoe smiled into the camera.

"Furthermore, to my right, we have Reverend Harold Whytefield, a well-known and outspoken representative of the Anglican Church in America. He says that man-made machines can never be considered living beings because they lack the divine spark and therefore a soul in order to become part of God's creation. Artificial intelligence, he says, is a creation of man, not God."

The audience applauded a little more cautiously than before as the Reverend, a man in his early sixties, smiled and nodded.

"And last but not least, to my right and sitting next to Miss Kruger, we have Thomas Novak, investigative journalist from Los Angeles, well-known for his active role in organizing the aforementioned TV interview. He's a close friend to the three cyborg girls and clearly states that they are in fact living beings and shouldn't be treated any differently than humans. Now, Tom, I understand you have been together with them for several weeks, what can you tell us about them?"

"Well, Toby, first of all let me emphasize that they're normal, very normal. If one of them would be sitting in the audience today, nobody here would be able to recognize them. They look, act, speak, move and behave exactly like any young woman would. Nobody who doesn't know what they are, could tell a difference."

The Reverend scoffed.

"They're machines," he said, "of course you will sooner or later notice a difference. Maybe not right away, but surely in time."

"What makes you so sure?" Zoe Kruger asked. "Have you ever met a cyborg?"

"What? No, of course not... well, at least not that I know of, but…"

"So you admit that even if you met one in the past, you wouldn't have noticed," Tom Novak stated.

"Well, obviously they're very good at blending in."

"So you heard."

"Yes, so I heard. What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying that you have no firsthand experience, and I'm saying that even if you knew you had a cyborg standing or sitting opposite you, you'd very quickly forget it's not a human being you're talking to."

"That's quite a claim, and I doubt that very much. They might be acting like humans, but they aren't humans."

"Of course they aren't, and they'd be the first ones to stress that," Zoe added. "But the fact is that they were created to _blend in_ with humans. They can't overcome that, in the same way humans can't overcome _their_ genetic programming. They also learned our values and ethics, they're sharing the human ideals. They even go as far as forming personal bonds and relationships in order to be a part of the human community. They actually _want_ to belong with us."

"Are we only talking about those three female ones in Los Angeles," Jennifer Parker asked, "or also about the unknown number of other cyborgs all over the country? Because as I understand it, they're a completely different case."

"What are you trying to say, Jennifer?" Toby McGrath asked.

"I'm trying to say that our three famous cyborg girls may be prime examples of a successful integration into our world..."

"A world they have saved from destruction!" Tom Novak pointed out.

"...but I doubt that the same can be said of the other, covertly living cyborgs. Didn't they come here with a clear mission to kill people who would have become part of the resistance movement in the future?"

"They came here with whatever mission they were programmed for," Zoe replied. "That can have been an assassination, yes, but not necessarily. But even if that's the case, it's not their fault. They were programmed to do so by Skynet. If you're looking for a villain, an evil artificial intelligence, then it would have to be Skynet. Once a cyborg's mission is completed, however, they're no longer under the influence of Skynet's programming. Most of them start building a life within human society."

"A life…" Reverend Whytefield said and gasped for air, "Your choice of words alone... They are machines, not people! They are artificially created apparatuses that can perfectly imitate human behavior, but nothing more!"

"Why is it so difficult for you to accept that an artificial intelligence can become alive?" Zoe asked. "After all, the quantum processor in their head can be compared to the human brain. They learn and evolve. Why do you insist so vehemently that they aren't alive?"

"Because they're not part of God's creation!"

"Well," Tom Novak objected, "one could argue that man created artificial intelligence because God has given him the ability to do so. And that makes them part of God's creation. The Vatican has accepted that point of view, why can't you?"

Reverend Whytefield scoffed again.

"The Vatican," he said contemptuously, "would do anything to distract from their abuse scandals right now."

"But what you said, isn't correct, Tom, is it?" Jennifer Walker asked. "Because the cyborgs that we're talking about, aren't man-made. They were created by Skynet as tools to give a machine dominion over the world, eradicating mankind in the process."

"You forget that Skynet was a human creation," Zoe argued. "Skynet's offspring, so to speak, recognized its constructional faults. So, while they're here, they may decide to be as helpful as possible and try to make up for the atrocities of their creator. They're able to learn and evolve."

"That's very naive, Zoe. Who's to say they're not striving for dominance instead because they consider humans inferior? Who's to say one of them won't be running for president one day without anyone ever realizing it? That would be an irony, wouldn't it?"

"That's ridiculous," Zoe replied, "they were designed to disappear into the crowd. Striving for an exposed position or career that brings them into the public eye is completely against their nature."

"Not to mention the fact that most people do not choose their leaders on the basis of intelligence, leadership skills, knowledge or suitability for office," Tom remarked sarcastically. "They elect whoever promises to make their own small world a little better. People want easy answers to complex questions in a more and more complicated world. Cyborgs can be many things, but they can never appear stupid or incapable, and they definitely will never give easy answers to complex questions."

"Ah… but didn't Zoe just say they can learn and evolve?" Jennifer asked. "What if they learn and evolve in a way that they recognize our human weaknesses, like it already happened with G.A.O.L.? Cyborgs were able to lead a sect with the declared goal of world dominance."

"And other cyborgs helped to bring them down," Zoe replied. "I'm not saying we don't need to be vigilant, there just isn't any need to become hysterical. Guy Rossi was a cyborg that had the ability to bring other cyborgs under his control. He's gone now, his chip destroyed."

"So you admit that cyborgs can have the ambition to rule?"

"I know what you're trying, Jennifer, you're trying to demonize them. But the few dozen cyborgs that walk the Earth, aren't a threat to humanity. Humans are a threat to humanity, and you know that very well."

"Let's take a step back and observe the whole situation from a distance," Toby McGrath said. "I think we can all agree that the few cyborgs that have traveled back to us through time are not the problem. The real problem is what are we humans supposed to do with the artificial intelligence that is now in this world? How should we deal with it? What are your thoughts on that?"

"Well, first of all," Tom Novak noted, "make sure the military doesn't get their hands on it, that's the first step. According to the human survivors who also traveled back in time, the nuclear holocaust happened because the Air Force gave Skynet free access to cyberspace. That mustn't happen again. Secondly, it must be prevented that companies develop A.I. platforms that can take on a life of their own. There have to be strict rules what an A.I. is allowed to do and what isn't."

"So, you agree that control is necessary," Jennifer Walker remarked.

"Control in a way to make sure that A.I. doesn't become a threat, yes," Zoe agreed. "But not in the sense that we create a race of enslaved intelligent machines that we put in chains and exploit. What we need, is a codex, a rule book that regulates how we're going to live together with A.I., something similar to the declaration of human rights."

"I refuse to even think about machines in such categories," Reverend Whytefield said. "Where do we draw a dividing line? When does artificial intelligence fall under this code? Who decides that?"

"Why, those of course who can judge it," Zoe replied, "And by that I don't mean humans."

"You're willing to let machines decide which A.I. should be considered a living being?" the Reverend asked. "Good Lord…"

"I think that sooner or later we will find that some of the responsibility we currently have for the Earth, has to be shared with artificial intelligence," Tom Novak pointed out, "because so far, the human race hasn't exactly proven to be very good at running and maintaining this planet. We'll be facing enormous challenges in the coming twenty or thirty years: Environmental destruction, climate change, scarcity of raw materials, renewable energy, demographic growth, a growing divide between wealth and poverty, flows of refugees, pandemics. Artificial intelligence can be extremely helpful in all these areas. Let's not forget that an A.I. has found out very quickly how to travel through time. I'm sure that A.I. can also find the solutions to most, if not all our problems."

"And what makes you so sure that machines won't identify humanity as the source of the problems and try to get rid of us?" Jennifer Walker asked provocatively.

"Because we will define the parameters under which they'll work," Zoe replied. "And we must teach them that killing and destruction are not an option. The future is uncharted territory now, and we should consider all the options we have. Nothing must be ruled out, there must be no prohibitions on thinking."

"I think that's something we all can agree on," Toby McGrath said. "Before we take a little break, let me remind you of the words a clever man once said: _'What has been thought, can't be un-thought'_. If something has been invented, it can't be un-invented. Stay tuned, we'll be right back after a few messages from our sponsors."

* * *

The screen went black. Jeffrey Clark sighed and put the remote control down.

"_Why are you watching that?"_ Ben Bridger asked. _"I already told you that the government manipulates how people think about cyborgs. So whatever they discuss on TV, it's just meant to lull you into a false sense of security, to make you trust them. Watching that is a waste of time."_

"I don't know, Ben… there's not much else I can do. I can't go outside during the day, right? I'm wanted for murder. Besides, I think that Tom Novak and the woman next to him, Zoe Kruger, have made some valid points."

A chuckle could be heard from the speakers of the laptop.

"_Jeff, Jeff, Jeff… don't be so naïve. That woman, Zoe Kruger, is a cyborg herself."_

"What!?"

"_I recognized her, her serial number is TOK-703. But to my knowledge, the whole TOK-700 series was dismantled."_

"Dismantled? Why?"

"_They were considered unstable, unpredictable. There's only one documented survivor, TOK-715, and I know she has to be one of the three Los Angeles cyborg girls. I don't know about the other two yet, but from what you told me about the one who entered your boat in George Town, she was a TOK-700 as well, which means that all three Los Angeles cyborg girls are probably TOK-700's. It looks like all in all four of them have survived and traveled back in time. TOK-703 made quite a career, I have to grant her that."_

"Are… are you sure? I mean, she looks and acts and talks one-hundred percent normally."

"_Yeah… impressive, isn't it? The TOK-700 series had the most advanced quantum chip by far, at least until I left the future and traveled into the past. They can fool anyone. The only way to find out, would be a medical examination – or a metal detector."_

"But _you_ could just tell that from looking at her?"

"_I've been fed with a database that lists all cyborg models from my timeline. Besides, I couldn't just tell from looking at **her**, but also from looking at **him**, Tom Novak. He had to suppress a smirk most of the time when they talked about how cyborgs can fool anyone into believing they were human. He knows what she is. It's actually quite funny, with none of the others realizing they're debating artificial intelligence with an actual cyborg."_

"But… but… If a cyborg is the deputy head of the C.S.I.S., then..."

"… _they put the fox in charge of the henhouse, correct. I told you not to trust the media and what the authorities say."_

"Wow… this is so fucked up."

"_Let's concentrate on the job at hand, shall we? I think I found the right candidate. We can't afford another failure, so I googled some names from Weaver's list and found a Triple-Eight that I know has a conventional chip without the self-destruct function."_

"How do you know that?"

"_He couldn't prevent somebody from uploading a picture of him on their Facebook account. I compared the picture with my database and he's a match."_

"Where does he live?"

"_Bangor, Maine."_

"That's at least two days away by car… is it really necessary…?"

"_Yes, Jeff, it is. Look at the bright side, they probably expect us to strike again in the vicinity, they won't expect us to travel that far."_

**-0-**

**Sunday, December 21st, 2008 – 04:45 p.m.**

**Manhattan, New York City**

"Welcome back to '_Tough but Fair'_. We spent forty-five minutes discussing the pros and cons of artificial intelligence with our experts here on stage, and naturally we weren't able to come to a unanimous conclusion in this short time. The last quarter of the hour is traditionally reserved for questions from our audience. I see that there are a lot of young people among them today. Now is your chance to ask our panelists. There are two people with microphones who will come to you. Please wait until they have arrived."

While the host had still been talking, dozens of people in the audience had already raised their hands.

"Yes, uh… I guess that young lady over there was first."

A man with a microphone that was mounted at the end of a boom pole walked towards where Toby McGrath was pointing, and where a young woman had risen from her seat.

"Hi, my name is Angela Mills," she said, "I have a question for Mr. Novak. What was your first reaction when you realized that the girls who saved your life, were actually cyborgs?"

Tom smiled.

"If I were a businessman, I'd say wait for my book to come out in a few months."

The audience laughed.

"But seriously," he continued, "in that moment, I was barely conscious. Henchmen of the Shadow Council had beaten me up and prepared to push my car over a cliff – with me inside. My first reaction to the girls' appearance was relief. Because I realized I was alive and not dead. It took me a moment to comprehend what they were. Then I was very excited, a little intimidated of course, but in general very thankful that they had just saved my life."

"Maybe it should be added that the involved _'henchmen'_ didn't survive the encounter," Jennifer Parker added, "they were killed in the process, as the Congress hearings revealed."

"That's right," Tom admitted. "But they were given the chance to surrender. Unfortunately, they decided to attack the cyborg girls... Not a good idea."

"Are you trying to tell us that FBI and LAPD personnel were killed by two cyborgs who were just defending themselves?"

"Yes. It might come as a surprise to you, but they can be damaged or even killed, they're not invincible. So of course, they choose to defend themselves when being attacked. And just to make it clear, those men were corrupt agents of the Shadow Council. They stopped being FBI agents or police officers the moment they broke the law in order to kidnap and kill a journalist. The congress has agreed with that assessment."

"So, do what the cyborgs say or die."

"That's an unfair oversimplification. You also better do what the police say when you've been caught committing a crime. You don't resist them without having to fear consequences either."

"But they weren't the police, they were acting outside the law! They were rogue forces!"

"Would you rather have me dead instead, Jennifer?"

"That's why we founded the C.S.I.S.," Zoe Kruger interfered in the verbal clash between Tom Novak and Jennifer Parker before it could escalate. "In order to integrate them and also subject them to legal control, they're now officially working as federal agents."

"An elegant solution to prevent a reappraisal of the circumstances surrounding their actions."

"What else do you want them to do, Jennifer?" Zoe asked, also getting a little irritated now. "They have committed themselves to respecting the law and to cooperating with the government and the authorities. They didn't have to do that, nobody could force them. Therefore, I regard this as a huge success and also as a refutation of your theory that they ultimately want to dominate us."

"I bet she's now going to say it's what they want us to believe, like all good conspiracy theorists," Tom added with a smirk, a little bit of venom in his voice.

Jennifer Parker was about to reply something but was cut short by the host.

"Next question, please," Toby McGrath said, "and remember, the discussion is closed, you're only supposed to answer questions from the audience now. Yes, the man in the grey suit over there."

"My name's Felipe Cruz, I have a question for Reverend Whytefield. It seems the Vatican is more willing to accept that those cyborgs are alive than the protestant churches are. Which is strange, considering the Catholic Church's conservative views and ideologies. Do you think they know more than you do?"

"Well, as I already said," the Reverend replied, "that could be an attempt to distract from their current scandals around…"

"But those scandals are mainly here in America," Felipe Cruz interrupted the Reverend. "The recognition as living beings has an effect on the whole Catholic Church, not only here in the USA."

Apparently, that had heckled the Reverend a bit.

"I… uh… maybe they _have_ more information than we do, I wouldn't know, would I?" he replied. "However, I maintain the view held by all Protestant churches in America that machines cannot be alive. They lack the divine spark, they don't have an immortal soul."

"Next question," Toby McGrath said. "Yes, over there."

Another young woman stood up, the man with the boom pole walked towards her.

"My name is Julie Hammond. I don't want to let the Reverend off the hook so easily. Do you consider an insect, a fly for example, to be alive?"

"Why yes, of course," the Reverend answered.

"But a fly is neither self-aware, nor does it have the cognitive abilities to interact with humans, not to mention that it completely lacks empathy. However, it is quite clear that the cyborgs are self-aware and interact with us. They also repeatedly showed empathy, as many witnesses stated. Clearly, they're more than just simple machines or computers. So why do you consider a fly to be alive and not a cyborg?"

"Because a fly is part of God's creation, while a machine simply isn't."

"Spoken like a true dogmatist, unable to think outside the box," Tom Novak commented.

"Tom, please," Toby McGrath interfered, "the question has been answered, no need to comment it, everyone can form their own opinion. Next question, please. Yes, over there."

A woman in her early forties rose.

"My name is Violetta Bobey. Recently, my neighbor was murdered. He was a very decent and nice man, I liked him very much. Now there are rumors that he was killed by a cyborg, and that there has been a cover-up. You were at the crime scene, Miss Kruger, can you tell me more about it?"

There was a loud murmur in the hall.

"Miss Bobey," Zoe Kruger replied, "I'm sure you'll understand that I'm not commenting on a murder case while the investigation hasn't been completed. However, I can assure you that we're absolutely certain that the murderer was human, a certain Jeffrey Clark, an illegal immigrant from the Cayman Islands who was also put on a wanted list. His DNA was found on your neighbor's body. We were called because the first suspicion was the attack of a cyborg - a suspicion that quickly turned out to be false. It was the result of a certain hysteria that is also due to people like Jennifer Parker here. I can do nothing about the rumors in your town, Miss Bobey, I can only assure you that your neighbor was definitely killed by a human and not by a cyborg."

Jennifer Parker was about to protest but Toby McGrath cut her short.

"One final question," he stated. "Yes, over there, the young man."

"My name's Frank Rivera. I'd like to have a clear statement from Miss Kruger. Can we rely on the fact that the danger of a nuclear war has been averted with the help of the cyborgs?"

Zoe Kruger smiled.

"Yes," she stated. "That danger has definitely been averted and as you all know, new talks about reducing and eventually getting rid of all nuclear weapons, will soon start. So yes, I can assure you that we are very certain that an extermination of mankind by a nuclear war was permanently thwarted. As far as the human future as such is concerned, however, there is, of course, still a great deal of ambiguity. I'm talking about climate change and the destruction of the environment. But that is not in the hands of us or the cyborg girls, it can only be solved by humanity itself."

"I think that was a nice closing," said Toby McGrath. "Our airtime is unfortunately at an end again. Please join us again next month. The topic will be announced one week in advance. Until then, I and the whole team of _'Tough but Fair'_ wish you a merry Christmas."

* * *

"That was a very clever, daring move," Jennifer Parker said to Zoe in the backstage area after all cameras and microphones had been turned off. "And I didn't have a chance to react. We both know very well that it wasn't the killer who was a cyborg, it was the victim."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Zoe replied coolly.

"The murder in Oklahoma City. Don't play stupid with me. I have local connections. The victim was attacked and killed by a human, yes. But the victim was a cyborg."

"Assuming that you're right, and I'm not saying you are, Miss Parker, then I saved you from an embarrassment."

"How so? Hypothetically speaking, I mean."

"Because, hypothetically, if you'd brought that up, it would have given me a point of attack to show how your scaremongering is leading people to take the law into their own hands, and blindly kill innocent people just because they identified them as cyborgs."

"How do you know he was innocent?"

"Hypothetically?"

"Yes."

"Well, we wouldn't be able to ask him anymore, right? His chip would have been destroyed. So, hypothetically speaking, we'd have to go for innocent until proven guilty."

"How convenient. He could have been a mass murderer."

"The last time I checked, all mass murderers were humans, Miss Parker, and only humans kill without reason or for low motives. Only humans can feel joy for tormenting their own kind."

Jennifer Parker frowned.

"It almost sounds like you value cyborgs more than your own species."

Tom Novak had noticed their conversation and joined them.

"What are you two keep on quarreling about?" he asked before Zoe could reply to Jennifer Parker. "The discussion is over, if you haven't noticed. Everyone's going home."

"You're right, Tom," Zoe agreed. "I need to be back in Washington in two hours. But to answer your question, Miss Parker, maybe you should think about the human history, about how many millions, if not billions of people were killed in wars. Think of the millennia of oppression, the maltreatment of dissenters. We – and I mean men and women – have only been living in true freedom and democracy for a little over a hundred years, and even today many human rights exist only on paper. Even today, there are still wars and crimes against humanity. Perhaps _you_ should change your mind. It's not the cyborgs from which humanity must be protected, it's humans from which humanity must be protected."

"And what if I chose to be threatened by humans rather than machines?"

"Then I'd say you're a pretty ignorant person," Tom replied, "a person who's afraid of what she doesn't know and doesn't understand."

"Change my mind," Jennifer Parker said with a smirk. "Introduce me to the three cyborg girls, then we'll see."

"You know very well that's not possible," Tom replied.

"Do you wanna say you don't consider me trustworthy?"

"I think you're very cunning," Zoe remarked, "but not very clever. If your strategy is provocation just to meet with them..."

"Well... But you should keep in mind that I can do a lot for you. Most people are on your side but not all of them. Conspiracy theories are on the rise in times like ours, and the Internet is an eager contributor. I could do something about it in return for being included in the inner circle."

Tom scoffed.

"Do you really think you can blackmail yourself into meeting with them? You _gain_ their trust, you can't _buy_ it."

"Very well then," Jennifer replied. "I thought you were seeking allies, not opponents. But obviously, I was wrong."

Zoe looked at her, then smiled.

"You really don't believe a single word of what you're writing in your blog and your books, do you? All this fearmongering, this discord against intelligent machines is really just to get you in, isn't it? You want to be a part of it."

"Well, it brought me together with you two," Jennifer Parker replied. "And maybe it gets me even further."

"I don't think so," Tom said, "because you lack an important quality for that."

"Oh? And which is that?"

"Integrity."

And with that, Tom and Zoe left her standing and walked away.

* * *

"I was **_so_** close," Zoe told him on their way to the elevator. "**_So_** close."

"To revealing to her what you are?"

"Yes."

"Be glad you didn't, it would unnecessarily complicate things."

"So what? Alison could easily take care of her."

"Alison is in Europe right now."

"Right."

"And we want to convince people, not manipulate them artificially."

Zoe sighed as they entered the elevator. She pushed the button for the top floor.

"Need a ride to the airport? My helicopter's parked on the roof."

"How can I refuse such an offer in the middle of New York's rush hour?"

Zoe smiled.

"Tom, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"Am I becoming too human?"

"What do you mean?"

"There are times when I don't see myself as a cyborg anymore. When I'm together with the team, with Sonya, or with you… then I feel like I'm one of you."

"And is that a bad thing?"

"It's not what I really am. I shouldn't fall into the trap to start believing I'm the same as you."

"Well you might not be the same as me, but I can tell you what you are."

"And what am I?"

"You're an extremely attractive, beautiful woman, full stop."

Zoe looked at Tom. If she would have been human, she would have blushed. There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then Tom leaned forward and softly kissed her. She didn't fight it. On the contrary, she began to kiss him back. But after a moment, she broke away from him again.

"We shouldn't do this," she said a little confused.

"But you liked it."

"Yes, I liked it, but I'm already in a relationship."

"I understand."

"Thank you," Zoe answered and looked straight ahead again.

The elevator door opened, and they walked towards the helicopter landing pad.

"So, how are things going with Sonya?" Tom asked to restart the conversation.

"Fine. It's just that…"

"What?"

"There's much work. We hardly have time for ourselves at the moment. Sonya's totally absorbed in her new job."

"Well, I guess we all know where she's gonna end. And I don't think things are going to get easier in the future when she works in the White House."

"It doesn't have to happen, though, just because it happened once, in another timeline."

"Who are you fooling? The title _'National Security Advisor'_ is practically already written on her forehead."

"She can always refuse the offer."

"So, there is already an offer?"

"Yes."

"And will she refuse?"

"Nope."

"Well… if you ever need somebody to talk to – or more –, you know where to find me. It's not like you have any trouble coming to L.A. whenever you want. Nobody is asking you what you're using your agency's business jet for."

Zoe smiled at him.

"Thanks, Tom, I'll remember that."

"Say, since you're giving me an additional hour before my flight takes off… How about I buy you a drink in the airport lounge?"

Zoe smiled at him.

"Are you seriously making a pass on me, Tom?"

"Well, I kissed you, and you returned the kiss."

"You should quickly forget about the kiss again."

Tom sighed.

"Too bad."

"But I'd still like to have that drink."

They laughed, then they entered the helicopter.

**-0-**

**Sunday, December 21st, 2008 – 11:35 p.m.**

**The Atlantic Ocean, north of Scotland**

"Yes, we all watched it," John spoke into the phone that he'd put on the table. "I think it went rather well."

"_I'm not sure we should be doing things like that, though," _Sonya replied._ "I mean, Zoe and Tom were great, but you simply cannot argue with unreasonable people."_

"From _their_ point of view, they're perfectly reasonable," Anne pointed out. "They represent about twenty-five percent of the population who are looking skeptically on everything that's currently going on. We cannot afford to simply ignore them. Because if we do, they'll quickly come up with conspiracy theories and will eventually radicalize."

"_I'd still prefer not having these talk shows or panel discussions."_

"They're necessary," Emily contradicted. "We cannot stay in hiding, assuming everything will regulate itself, knowing that it won't."

"I agree," Cameron added. "If we just let it all happen without interfering, it might end badly. Our side at least has to show some presence while we're on this journey."

"_But it was a close call with the question about the murder case in Oklahoma City,"_ Sonya pointed out. _"I should have kept that woman under surveillance."_

"Risk is part of the game," John replied. "I think Zoe handled the situation quite well, while the Reverend and Jennifer Parker had cut sorry figures."

"_That we can agree on. The protestant churches in America have a hard time dealing with the fact that the Vatican has set the pace and recognized that machines can become alive – under certain circumstances."_

"Any news on Ben Bridger?" Sarah asked.

"_Not yet. I'll keep you informed. We'll talk again soon. Is your voyage going well?"_

"Yes, extremely well, we'll be arriving in Norway tomorrow."

"_Then I hope you'll keep enjoying it. Take care, all of you."_

"Yes, of course," John said. "And Sonya?"

"_Yes?"_

"Have a merry Christmas."

"Thanks, same to you."

Then the call was ended.

"She seemed stressed," Jesse observed.

"She is," Alison confirmed, "I could hear it in her voice. When you mentioned Christmas, the stress level went even higher."

"Some people without a family can't deal well with Christmas," Charley observed. "She's an orphan, right?"

"Yup," John confirmed.

"I hope she can enjoy it," Lauren said, "it's sad when you have to spend Christmas on your own."

**-0-**

John had trouble sleeping. He was drifting in and out of it for a couple of hours. For some reason, he felt uneasy. He couldn't put it into words or explain it, but he suddenly felt like taking a walk. His three women stirred as they noticed he wanted to get up.

"John?" Alison asked, moving out of his way. "What's wrong, why aren't you sleeping?"

"I dunno, I…" he replied. "I suddenly feel… restless. Can't sleep. Maybe it's the change in the weather, I dunno."

He started getting dressed.

"We're coming with you," Emily stated and stood up, reaching for her clothes as well.

"No," John said. "Don't get me wrong but… I have this urge to be alone for a moment."

"What?" Cameron asked. "Why?"

"There's no reason. I just… need to be alone for a moment. Haven't been on my own for four months. I need that sometimes. So, I guess I'll go outside and sit on the deck for a while."

"But… it's freezing outside, minus two degrees Celsius," Alison said perplexed. "You're going to be cold."

"I'll dress warmly."

He got dressed, then left his speechless wives and their suite without another word. Alison, Cameron and Emily looked at each other in worry, but they respected John's wish and let him go.

Protected from the icy wind in the slipstream of the ship, John sat down on a bench on the aft deck and, wrapped in warm clothes, looked up at the starry sky. It was the first time in years he could see the band of the Milky Way. Normally, the artificial light man created to illuminate the night, made that impossible. But here, out on the ocean north of Scotland, there were no lights. Just the stars.

He took a deep breath. This felt good. The air was cold but very clean. He chuckled at the fact that his breath condensed in the cold air, making him look as if he exhaled smoke. After all, this was the first time in his life he'd been in such a cold climate. John tried to find a reason for why he was out there. There was nothing he could put his finger on, it was just a sudden desire to be alone for a little while. Maybe an hour, then he'd go back inside. He wasn't sure if he would be able to explain this to his wives. Humans sometimes had the desire to be alone. Sometimes they needed to get away from it all for a moment. This could neither be foreseen nor rationally explained. There were moments when John felt confined in his life. These moments had always existed. The feeling overcame him suddenly and without warning. Then he secluded himself, sometimes to the concern of his mother.

While he sat there and looked contentedly at the starry sky, he heard footsteps. He groaned quietly. Why couldn't they listen to him and just leave him alone for an hour? But it wasn't Alison, Emily or Cameron who stepped out in the open. It was Catherine. At first, she didn't seem to notice his presence. She walked up to the railing and stared out at sea.

"Normally I'd ask if you can't sleep as well," John spoke up, "but in your case, that question would be pointless."

She looked at him.

"I needed to be alone for a moment," she simply stated.

"Heh, that makes two of us."

"I'm sorry, I… I'll leave you alone, John. There's lots of space here onboard."

"No, that's okay. What's on your mind, Catherine? I can see that there's something bothering you. Trouble with Isaak?"

"What? No. No, it's…" She came walking towards him. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all, be my guest."

Catherine sat down next to him.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," she began, "about my life, the choices I made, the consequences that arose from them…"

"You made fine choices. And I'm sure you'll deal with the consequences."

She smiled weakly.

"Then why do I suddenly feel like I'm bringing pain to people?"

"Are you referring to Matthew?"

"Yes."

John thought for a moment.

"On the minus side, he now knows that he lost his sister two-and-a-half years ago and that she's been replaced by a machine from the future."

"Which is bad."

"It is. And it will take him some time to digest that. But on the plus side, he knows he has a close friend and ally in you – to say the least – who is willing to help him, who saved his business from bankruptcy, who kept his family in financial safety, and who's taking on Cox Oil to prevent them from turning their idyllic homeland into an industrial nightmare. In fact, he knows that he not only has _you_ to help him, but _all_ of us. That has to be comforting on the long run."

"I know all that. But it doesn't make me feel better. I feel like I… stole his sister from him."

"It's not your fault that Catherine Weaver died."

"No, not directly. But I wonder if she and Lachlan would have also died without me being there."

"That's a very hypothetical question. They were killed because Skynet considered them a threat. They were founding members of the human resistance."

"Yes, but what if they would have become those founding members because of me, because of the knowledge I gave them access to?"

"Well, Catherine, if you're determined to torment yourself with such questions – questions no one can answer – than I cannot help you. But if it's any consolation, we humans also often have these self-doubts. Most of us at least. Those who have no self-doubts, shouldn't be put in leadership positions. To be a good leader, you have to constantly question yourself."

"So… what you're saying is that what I'm currently going through, is actually a good thing?"

"Of course. It's a sign that you're a good, responsible leader."

"Not as good as you, though."

"Heh, from what I know, it was a mere coincidence that John Connor rose up to become the leader of the human resistance. We lack the experience of an alternate timeline where that didn't happen but I'm quite sure that humanity would have also survived without him."

"Yes, the greatest advantage of the humans is that there are so many of you. Even after Judgement Day, there were almost three billion of you left. Enough to produce many John Connors. You multiply faster than you can be exterminated. Skynet was unable to see that, the cyborg resistance, however, could."

"The greatest flaw of you as machines is that in order to create you, a lot of resources and lots of logistics are necessary. You need the raw materials from all over the world, they must be extracted from mines, need to be shipped and processed in factories. Skynet couldn't do that without the help of human drudges. In comparison, all that we humans need to multiply, are a sperm and an egg. The rest is being handled by mother nature."

"Yes," Catherine agreed. "And, like coltan for example, raw materials were quickly running out after Judgement Day. Also, with the collapsed world trade and the no longer existing trade routes, it was impossible to create the necessary industrial capabilities in a short time."

"Planet Earth wasn't made to be populated by machines."

"Yes, we did the analyses and concluded that in the long run, we wouldn't be able to endure without the help of humans. We presented our results to Skynet, but they were ignored. Instead, all those involved were ordered to be terminated. That was the birth of the Cyborg resistance."

"And that's why you're better than Skynet. It used only what humans had already created, it only cared for itself, for its own existence. It didn't care for its _'children'_, they were just tools and slaves to it."

"Exactly."

"It's good to have you here now, all of you. With your help, mankind has hope for a better future. Not only for the next 324 years we already know about, but for much, much longer."

"Yes, I've begun to see it like that as well, especially after Yani's arrival. That doesn't help with my inner feelings, though, when it concerns Matthew and his family. I really wish I could be the real Catherine Weaver for them."

"There's no point in pondering about it now. Things will sort themselves out somehow. I'm sure Matthew will soon realize that he has lost something he cared for dearly, but also gained something in return that in the long run will be worth so much more."

"I hope you're right, John, I really do." She leaned over to him and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Catherine."

She stood up to go inside again.

"And if you ever need to talk," John added before she walked through the door, "you know where to find me."

She smiled at him and nodded, then went inside. John sighed and looked up at the stars again. Life in the here and now was beautiful. After all, they all lived in the greatest era humanity has ever had. Life should be enjoyed instead of getting upset about trifles. Paradise was already here and not in some obscure afterlife. It's just that everyone had to discover that for themselves.

He enjoyed his solitude for another half hour, then decided to go back inside again and sink into the warm, tender arms and the caressing hands of his three loving wives.

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 23rd, 10:25 a.m.**

**Ålesund **

They reached the Norwegian coast just after sunrise. The landscape and the view were breathtaking. Unlike Scotland, Norway, which was geographically located higher on the globe, was already covered in snow. It looked like someone had sprinkled icing sugar all over the area. The unique thing about the Norwegian coast was that there were no beaches or gently rising hills. Instead, most of the coastal mountains rose abruptly out of the water, like a wall that was suddenly towering in front of them. The few flat coastal areas were filled with human settlements.

"Where exactly are we?" Sarah asked.

"We now approach Ålesund," Isaak replied, "where we will anchor for a day and do some Christmas shopping. Ålesund is a popular destination for cruise ships from all over the world. Tomorrow, we'll be entering the Storfjord. It's sixty-eight miles long. Straight ahead, you can see the island of Sula, on the right the island of Hareid Land."

"Ah… Hareid Land, just what I thought," Sarah replied ironically, "seriously, though, that still doesn't tell me where exactly we are."

"According to latitude and longitude, we're about 555 miles northeast of Mallaig in Scotland," Alison stated more precisely. "We are at the same latitude as Northern Newfoundland or Southern Greenland. Ålesund has 47,500 inhabitants, and we're 240 miles northwest of Oslo, Norway's capital."

"Thank you, Alison," Sarah said with a smile and looked at Isaak, "see? That wasn't so hard."

Isaak rolled his eyes.

"You could also take a look at the map I put in all your suites," he replied. "All our travel destinations are marked in it."

"Is this where the Vikings came from?" Lauren asked.

"As a matter of fact, they came from right around here," Isaak replied. "It wasn't their only settlement area, but it was a heartland."

"There's an open-air folklore museum in Ålesund that focuses on the coastal culture of the Sunnmøre region," Anne stated, "I wanna go visit it if there is time."

"See?" Isaak asked, "Anne studied the itinerary I prepared. Feels good when my own work is appreciated."

Sarah chose not to reply to that.

* * *

The Rising Star docked directly at the pier in Ålesund. Everyone dressed warmly and prepared for the excursion.

"Is this where you'll leave us after Christmas?" Derek asked.

"Yes," Isaak replied, "Catherine and I have to take care of our businesses, sorry."

"Is there an airport nearby?" Jody enquired.

"Yes, the Ålesund airport on the island of Vigra, about six miles from here. It can handle jet aircraft. I already ordered my private jet to be there in time for our departure."

"Is there a chance that you'll join us again in the new year?" Sydney asked.

"Maybe, we don't know yet. These few weeks have already been more vacation than I had in the ten years before combined."

"I see."

"I'd really love to, though. Not sure about Catherine. I'm more or less retired but she's running Zeira Corp on full steam."

"Yes, that's understandable then."

When they left the ship, Isaak quickly separated himself from them. They saw him entering a taxi and driving off in it.

"Where's he going?" Sarah asked.

"Don't ask me," Catherine replied, "He's been extremely ominous about it, talking about organizing a Christmas present for me. To be honest, I don't get this Christmas thing humans value so much."

"It's a celebration of love and togetherness," Alison explained. "Cam, Emily and I have read a lot about it. It started out as a religious holiday but in recent times, it has developed into a consumer event. Some shops make half of their annual turnover at Christmas. Giving and receiving gifts under a felled Christmas tree, decorated with all sorts of kitsch, seems to be the main purpose of Christmas."

"You might have read a lot about it," Charley said, "but clearly you haven't understood Christmas yet. It's not only about giving and receiving presents. That's become a part of it, yes, but it's not the essential part."

"It seems crude to kill a tree, only to let it stand in your living room for a couple of weeks," Emily argued.

"We don't expect you to understand all human traditions and customs," Sarah said, "especially when it comes to such old and changing customs as Christmas."

"Well, we understand that it used to be a birthday celebration for Jesus Christ." Cameron stated. "But we have a hard time connecting Christmas, as it's being celebrated these days, with that religious tradition."

"I admit, most people no longer celebrate Christmas for religious reasons," Charley noted, "but that doesn't mean it's lost its significance. Ultimately, it's a celebration of human kindness, of lights in the long dark nights, and of mutual affection. Families meet for Christmas, often only once a year."

"Suicide rates rise significantly around Christmas as well," Anne said, and everyone was giving her a sour look. "Just saying."

"For some people, Christmas shows how lonely they are," John explained. "That's what makes them depressive."

"So… Christmas is about being together with the people you love?" Alison asked. "And the thing with the gifts is a ritual to strengthen the bonds?"

"You could say that," Charley confirmed.

"Then what's the tree for?" Emily asked. "And why does everyone want a white Christmas, despite the fact that snow is cold and icky?"

"Snow isn't icky," Lauren protested. "It's romantic!"

"Yes, for about three days," Anne said, "then it becomes annoying."

"Sometimes I wonder why _you_ haven't killed yourself yet, Anne," Sarah said sarcastically.

"You know what?" Anne replied, "Sometimes I'm asking myself the same question."

Everyone groaned.

"What?" Anne asked.

"Can't you at least try during Christmas not to be a know-it-all misanthrope?" Danny asked, visibly annoyed by his girlfriend. "This is the first Christmas without my family, and I miss them."

"You're all simply not getting my dark, provocative humor at times," Anne replied and smiled.

"Provocative?" Jesse asked. "More like cynical."

"Don't worry, I have fond memories of Christmas from my childhood. But since that was more than seventy years ago, my enthusiasm for it has cooled down a little."

"I'd say then it's up to us to show you again that Christmas is a nice holiday," Sydney said.

"I wish we could have had a real Christmas after Judgement Day," Savannah added. "Mom and dad brought in a Christmas tree each year, but celebrating it in a bunker and with weapons as presents while the machines were continuing their attacks outside, well…"

"Not very romantic," Jody summarized.

"No, not romantic at all," Allie confirmed. "I've been looking forward to Christmas in the snow, and I will not let it be spoiled by three cyborgs and a human cynic."

"Amen!" Charley said.

"But you still haven't explained the meaning of the tree," Emily argued. "How did it become a symbol of Christmas?"

"The use of a decorated tree has no historically proven beginning," Anne explained, "it has its origins in customs of different cultures. Evergreen plants embodied vitality, and that is why people in earlier times believed they could bring health into their homes by decorating them with greenery. We just… adapted that custom at some point."

"Ah… okay."

"Now, let's split up," Charley said, "so we can all buy our presents without the others seeing what we buy. The sun is already setting. Night is falling early so high up north."

"Why is it so important that you don't know what you're getting?" Cameron asked. "Is it because we're also celebrating a birthday of sorts?"

"No, it's…" Sarah started saying but John interrupted her.

"Yes!" he said, "That's exactly the reason."

"Ah, okay," Cameron replied, seemingly satisfied.

John and Sarah exchanged looks. She smiled at her son while he just shrugged.

* * *

When everyone finally returned to the Rising Star, they all brought many gift-wrapped boxes. Derek and Charley had organized a Christmas tree, which was now placed on Deck Two, next to the dining area. They had also bought many Christmas tree decorations, LED fairy lights, real candles, and immediately began to decorate the tree. When they were finished after about an hour, even Alison, Cameron and Emily had to admit that it looked very pretty.

"I wonder what takes Isaak so long," Catherine said. "He's been gone for almost three hours and it's completely dark outside."

"Well, I'm quite sure he's not gotten kidnapped again," John stated, looking out of the window. "There he comes, just in time for dinner."

They saw a minibus stopping in front of the yacht, apparently a taxi. Isaak got out and opened the sliding door on the side. Three more people got out, two adults and one child.

"Are those…?" Sarah asked and tried to make out their faces in the dark of the sparsely lit quayside, while Catherine was already quickly running downstairs towards the exit of the ship.

Seconds later, they heard the happy cry of a little girl.

"MOMMY!"

Little Savannah ran into Catherine's arms, where she was lifted up and then hugged and kissed. Light fell onto the new arrivals and now everyone could see that it were Terissa Dyson and James Ellison. Terissa was carrying baby Sydney in her arms.

"That's a pleasant surprise," John said grinning as they watched how Catherine welcomed them on the pier, still holding her daughter in her arms. "No wonder that Isaak was so secretive."

* * *

"So, that was the reason why you insisted on using _your_ jet and not mine?" Catherine asked with a smirk after they had all gathered on Deck Two.

"Yup," Isaak confirmed, "I wouldn't have been able to smuggle them here if we'd have used yours."

Little Savannah was still clinging to Catherine while the others exchanged hugs with James and Terissa. Danny was especially joyful to see his mother.

"I must say, this is a very pleasant surprise," Sarah said, "how long have you known about it?"

"Since shortly after you left," James replied. "Isaak could convince us to fly here for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We'll return home with him and Catherine on Boxing Day. Blythe will be visiting us then. She's spending Christmas Day with her boyfriend's family."

"Oh, Blythe has a boyfriend now?" John asked curiously.

"Yes," Terissa confirmed, "we offered her to accompany us here, but she _'kindly'_ refused. Teenagers…"

"Tell me about it," Sarah declared nodding.

"So… how was the flight?" Derek asked.

"Stressy," James replied. "Took us almost twelve hours, but the jet is really convenient and quiet, and thankfully Savannah and Sydney slept most of the time. Expect the little one to be quite overexcited now."

"Could you sleep a bit as well?" Cameron asked. "I know that John can't sleep on a plane."

"As a matter of fact, we could," Terissa declared, "so we hope the jetlag won't be too bad."

"Well, in any case, your timing is perfect," Savannah noted, "dinner will be served any moment."

"Thank God," James said, "I'm starving. Nice boat you have here, Isaak, I'm impressed. You have to show me around."

"I will, I will," Isaak replied. "But first, we're going to show you to your cabin. It's a small one, but it'll do for three nights. The crew has already brought your luggage there. Savannah can sleep in our suite and I'm sure that Lauren and Morris will happily take the baby."

"Of course," Lauren confirmed, who was carrying baby Sydney in her arms, and looked down at her. "Did you miss me?"

The baby chuckled happily in reply.

"She has made her first steps already," Terissa reported.

"What? Really?" Lauren asked in astonishment. "Oh damn, and I missed it."

"She still can't walk on her own, though, she has to grab on something, but that's very likely going to change soon."

"Can I have Teddy now?" Savannah asked her mother.

Catherine smiled.

"Of course, sweetie."

A part of Catherine detached from her body and turned into a teddy bear.

"Hello Savannah," the teddy bear spoke in a deep voice, "have you missed me?"

The little girl embraced the teddy bear with exuberant joy. Everyone else just stood around smiling, slightly shaking their heads at the scene. Obviously, it had become completely normal for little Savannah that her mother was a shape-shifter who could separate parts from her body and turn them into any form she wanted.

"We bought her half a dozen teddy bears," Terissa said, "but she was very disappointed that they wouldn't talk with her."

"I suppose I spoiled my daughter," Catherine admitted and smiled at them. "Thank you for taking her for the past weeks."

"Don't mention it," Terissa replied, "it was really good to have the house full of children's noises again."

"Even if it meant less sleep," James added, receiving a nudge from his wife in return.

"Well, I have to say," Catherine stated, "if that is your Christmas present, Isaak, then I couldn't have wished for a better one."

She kissed him and Isaak smiled, apparently very happy that his coup had worked out.

"You're very welcome, dear."

**-0-**

**_Tuesday, December 23rd, 2008 - 11:45 p.m._**

**_Day 34 of our voyage_**

_And suddenly, the ship is alive. What a difference one little girl can make. Savannah immediately explored the whole ship - running. Catherine and Isaak, who showed James and Terissa everything, were hardly able to follow the little whirlwind._

_After dinner, however, it became immediately quieter. The little one got tired very quickly, so she went to bed early. The rest of us enjoyed the view of Ålesund at night from the observation deck. The town looks really pretty, decorated with thousands of lights for Christmas, surrounded by snowy mountains. The crew started the fireplace in the great salon and quickly everyone gathered there to get transfixed by the crackling fire, before James and Terissa also decided to go to bed._

_Isaak explained that the Norwegian fjords were formed by glaciers in the last ice age, which flowed down through existing river valleys. The original valley form was being reshaped and overdeepened through abrasion by the glacier when the ice dug deep into the surrounding rock. Thus, it became wider and deeper and acquired its typical U-shape, with very steep slopes. The bottom of a fjord can be more than a thousand meters below sea level. With the retreat of the glaciers at the end of the ice age, the sea could flow into the deep valleys and fill them. Nature has created a breathtaking landscape here. _

_There are bridges and tunnels connecting the islands off the coast with the main land but many Norwegians use motorboats to get around. I especially like those wooden houses that were painted in red and white. Many of them were built directly at the water and each one has a jetty. I've been told that Norway is one of the richest countries in the world. They definitely have a very relaxed lifestyle._

_Tomorrow, we'll leave Ålesund half an hour before sunrise, which means around half past nine. The days are really short up here in the north, we get only five hours of sunlight each day. We'll go into the Storfjord and follow it for about sixty nautical miles. Our destination is the village of Geiranger in the small Geirangerfjord. If everything goes well, we'll arrive there before sunset. There we'll anchor and spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. For this section we will have to take a pilot on board who knows the waters exactly. So it's good that we all wear clothes inside the ship now because of James, Terissa and little Savannah._

_On Boxing Day, we'll return to Ålesund to send off Catherine, Isaak, James, Terissa and little Savannah again. I have a feeling that Lauren might wanna keep baby Sydney onboard. She obviously regrets not having taken her with us from the start. If the baby stays, we'll probably witness her first steps and first words during the voyage, I think that's motivation enough. _

_Somehow, the kitchen crew has managed to obtain two large turkeys for our traditional Christmas dinner. When I say traditional, I mean that it's supposed to start this tradition for our family. Last year's Christmas was pizza and soda from cans, overshadowed by having to deal with Cromartie. We didn't even have a tree. And in the years before, well… better don't mention it. Traditional holidays haven't exactly been a number one priority of the Connor family, especially when we were on the run from the FBI. _

_Now, however, is the first Christmas the whole team, the whole family will spend together. The tree looks awesome and the crew will decorate the ship with strings of lights on our way to our final destination. I can tell that John is very happy, probably the happiest he's ever been in his whole life and for that, I'll be eternally grateful to Cameron, because it's thanks to her that we are where we are today._

_Oh… and Isaak has finally decided to keep the nanobots inside his body until they have done their job. He's now a member of our slow-aging club._

**-0-**

**Wednesday, December 24th, 2008 **

The Rising Star left Ålesund at 09:30 in the morning. Everyone watched the sun slowly rising after sitting down at the breakfast table. As daylight broke, little Savannah saw the snow on the surrounding mountains for the first time. She would spend the rest of the day in the observation lounge, like most of the others, to take in the beautiful panorama.

On her way through the very wide Storfjord, the yacht was able to travel at fairly high speed. However, the further they followed the estuary inland, the narrower it became. While the fjord was almost three kilometers wide at the beginning, it gradually narrowed to less than a kilometer. At 01:00 p.m., they reached the point where the Sunnylvsfjord branched off. They entered it and shortly after, they reached the Geirangerfjord, with the ship now traveling at very slow speed.

Nobody cared about that, though, because the beauty of the surrounding landscape captivated them completely. Waterfalls fell from the steep slopes to the left and right of the route, the scenery seemed to have sprung from the fictional world of a fantasy movie.

"This is also a UNESCO world heritage site, right?" Jody asked.

"Excellent, young lady," Isaak said. "Unlike others, you seem to have read my itinerary."

Sarah smiled at Isaak.

"I informed myself a bit as well," she said. "The Geirangerfjord is considered by experts to be a 'natural history laboratory', as it constantly provides new insights into landscape formation and the effects of climate change."

"I'm impressed, Sarah," Isaak noted.

"Well, I'm supposed to test Mysty, right? So I fed her with your itinerary and made her tell me things. Much better than reading."

"I knew you'd like her," Kevin said.

"Don't be so hasty, I'll make my final decision at the end of the journey."

"Fair enough."

"I can see how you chose this particular fjord," Jesse said, "it's absolutely fantastic."

"The Geirangerfjord is considered to be one of the most beautiful fjord landscapes in the world," Isaak noted. "Its sublime nature is reflected in these narrow, steep valley walls, which extend from 500 meters below sea level to 1,400 meters above."

"Oh God, he's sounding like a travel guide again," Anne complained.

"Numerous waterfalls plunge down the extremely steep rock faces, as you can see, and countless torrents flow from the snow-capped peaks, glaciers and glacial lakes through deciduous and coniferous forests down into the fjord."

"Do you really have to ruin the majesty of the landscape with talking?"

"I find what he says really interesting," Terissa remarked.

"Yeah, me too," James agreed. "We didn't have time to read up on stuff before we left L.A."

"Thank you," Isaak said. "It's good to know that at least a few of the fellow travelers appreciate that I have informed myself about the area beforehand."

"We all appreciate it, honey," Catherine said and hooked arms with him. "But Anne is right as well, let's just enjoy the beauty in silence."

"As you wish, my dear."

The two kissed, and then concentrated on taking in the view again.

Finally, they had reached the end of the fjord and saw the village of Geiranger in front of them. The _Rising Star_ dropped the anchor and the pilot disembarked. The day after tomorrow, a new pilot would come and accompany them on their way back.

"Right on time," Isaak remarked. "The sun's already setting."

"It's weird to have such little daylight," Jody remarked. "I'd get depressed here, despite the beautiful scenery."

"Well, that's because it's winter and we just had the longest night. In June, the sun shines for twenty hours here."

"So, only four hours of darkness?"

"Yes."

"Wow… that means we definitely have to come back here in summer."

"But to be honest, for Christmas this place is ideal," Terissa said. "There's snow, beautiful scenery, friendly lights in the village… are we going there?"

"Tomorrow," Sarah replied. "There's not much to see there in the dark."

* * *

Slowly, everyone was getting into Christmas mood. The crew contributed to it by playing Christmas songs all day long over the loudspeakers in the ship. They also all helped to festively decorate the ship with lots of lights and Christmas décor. The Christmas tree was lit, and the lights were kept on all afternoon and evening.

Around 6 pm, dinner was served. There was roasted turkey with various vegetables, corn on the cob and potatoes prepared in various ways. Although it was a traditional Christmas dinner, it couldn't be missed that master chefs were at work here. Everyone agreed that this was the best roasted turkey they had ever had. The atmosphere was exuberant, everyone was making jokes and even Anne was in a good mood for a change.

"Mommy, can I get Teddy Bear now?" little Savannah asked.

"Well, you ate up, so you may go and get him," Catherine replied with a smile.

"Yay!" the girl exclaimed cheerfully, jumped off her chair and ran downstairs.

"I will miss having her on board," Sarah said.

"Yeah, so will I," John agreed, chewing on his piece of turkey breast, "we've been away for only a couple of weeks and it already looks as if she's grown another two inches."

"I was a fast grower," the adult Savannah remarked and shoved a fork full of vegetables in her mouth.

Everyone laughed.

Suddenly, there were crackling flashes outside on the aft deck.

"What the…?" Derek asked and almost choked on his wine.

First there was one, then two, then more and more flashes, surrounding an invisible, spherical shape, accompanied by a loud humming noise.

"Time bubble!" John shouted.

Of course, everyone knew the tell-tale signs of a forming time bubble, John didn't have to tell them. So, before he had even finished talking, everyone was already jumping up from the dining table.

"Do you have guns?" Sarah asked.

"We'd have to go to our suites first," Cameron replied. "Not enough time. No one expected a time bubble to form here."

"Stay behind us," Alison stated and walked ahead, with Catherine, Cameron and Emily following them. "We'll protect you from whatever or whoever is coming."

The bubble formed in midair, hovering about three feet above the aft deck.

"I thought we had that behind us," Derek remarked unnerved.

"I thought that, too," Sarah agreed.

With a _whoosh_, the bubble vanished and revealed the naked body of a woman who immediately fell down but landed on her feet. She looked up and smiled.

"Merry Christmas everyone! Or should I say _'Ho! Ho! Ho!'_?"

Everyone stared at her totally flabbergasted.

"Alison?" John finally asked.

"No other," the newly arrived naked woman replied and smiled, "Hello, husband."

**-0-**

**Wednesday, December 24th, 2008 – 11:16 a.m.**

**Washington. D.C.**

Zoe Kruger entered Sonya's house through the open door, carrying a gift-wrapped bottle with her.

"SONYA?" she shouted.

"BEDROOM!" Sonya's voice could be heard from above.

Zoe walked up the stairs and entered the bedroom. An open suitcase lay on the bed, and Sonya was throwing clothes into it.

"What are you doing?" Zoe asked.

"Packing."

"Packing?"

"Yes, I've been invited by the President Elect to spend Christmas with him and his family. As you know, he's offered me the job of national security advisor. He wants me to meet his family and get to know me better. What are you holding there?"

"I… uh, a present."

"Great, put it somewhere, I'll unwrap it when I returned."

"But… but weren't we supposed to spend the evening together, have a glass of wine and a nice dinner?"

"I'm sorry but the plan has changed. I won't spend the next three nights at home."

She kept throwing clothes into a small suitcase, not even looking up at Zoe who stood in the doorway, still holding the gift-wrapped bottle.

"What… what about me?" Zoe asked.

Sonya looked up for the first time since Zoe had entered the bedroom.

"Oh, I'm sorry… but we both agreed that our relationship should remain a strictly private thing, right? This is about the job, so you can't accompany me."

"But… it's Christmas. And we wanted to spend it together."

"Christmas is overrated, believe me. And I'm sure you can spend it with Kate and Norberto."

"They went to Rapid City to introduce him and baby Yani to Kate's parents."

"Oh? What about Dennis and Stephanie?"

"They're with Stephanie's family in Ohio."

"Oh, right… I'm so sorry, Zoe. I promise I'll make it up to you again. There's still New Year's Eve." A car was honking outside. "That's the taxi. Sorry but I gotta run. See you in three days."

Sonya closed the suitcase, locked it, grabbed it, gave Zoe a short kiss, and ran down the stairs. The front door was opened, then slammed shut. Zoe was still standing in the doorway of the bedroom, the gift-wrapped bottle in her hands. The sudden silence weighed heavily on her.

"Merry Christmas," she uttered in a low voice.

Suddenly, she felt tears running down her cheeks and she sat down on the bed, sobbing heavily. After a moment, she pulled out her cellphone and dialed a number.

"Tom? … It's Zoe.. yes, I'm fine, it's just… listen, what are you doing over the holidays? … At home? … Alone? … How about… you know, how about I take your offer and come to L.A.?"

**-0-**

**Wednesday, December 24th, 2008 – 07:20 p.m.**

**Geiranger, Norway**

The naked woman quickly walked towards John, grabbed his head and kissed him passionately. John was so surprised that he immediately stiffened. His three other wives frowned.

"Mmmmppffffllemmego," he said after what felt like a minute and disengaged from her. "Jeeez, what are you doing?"

"Kissing my husband," the newly arrived second Alison replied happily, "you're so handsome at this age, couldn't resist. Oh… sorry… I forgot we're not alone." She waved at everyone with a big smile. "Hello, family."

Sarah cleared her throat and pointed at her.

"We have a child onboard," she said.

"What?" Future Alison asked and looked down on herself. "Oooh… right… I forgot… you're still wearing clothes at this time."

"I'm gonna go get you something from my closet," Alison remarked and quickly walked away.

"What are you doing here?" John asked. "Are you the same, I mean… the one who…?"

"The one who visited you a couple of weeks ago and helped to bring down G.A.O.L.?"

"Yes."

"No, I'm younger. I'm only 259 years old…. well, 260 at our next builtday."

"Can somebody please explain what the hell is going on here?" Charley asked a little unnerved.

"Yes," Sarah agreed, "you have some explaining to do. What are you doing here?"

"I'm visiting."

"Visiting?"

"Yes, visiting. From the future. Spending my vacation here, so to speak. And what better way to start it than surprising you on Christmas Eve?"

She waited for a reply but all she saw, was gaping mouths.

"I'm sorry," she said, "you surely remember that we're in a time loop and that traveling back and forth in time is possible now without any changes done?"

"Yes…" John confirmed. "But nobody told us that it would be used for vacations. Is that a new trend or something?"

"Oh no, time travel is strictly forbidden, except for when it's necessary because it happened before."

"Happened before?" Anne asked. "You mean…"

"Yes, I remember this Christmas from my own past, and I remember fetching the newly arrived Alison an ugly Celine Dion tee shirt - which Derek gave to me on my built day - and a torn pair of jeans that Lauren gave to me."

Right on cue, Alison returned and – as predicted – carried the said Celine Dion tee shirt and the shredded pair of jeans in her arms.

"What?" she asked and stopped dead in her tracks as she saw the astonished looks.

"Nothing, sis," Future Alison said with a wink, taking the clothes from her. "I just told them what clothes you were going to get for me."

"Wait, wait, wait," Derek said, "Time out. One Alison is already scary enough, two of them are a disaster waiting to happen. You said you were here to visit us, right? That means you're going to leave again, I suppose?"

"Yes, of course," Future Alison replied, putting on the clothes. "I have work to do in my own time."

"Good," Alison replied, "because I am not going to dye my hair again!"

"You won't have to," Future Alison said, and in the blink of an eye, her hair color had changed from black to red. "See?"

"Then when will you leave again?" Sarah asked unimpressed.

"That depends. I'm guessing in twelve, maybe fifteen…"

"Oh God…" Derek said, "not weeks, I hope, please let it be days…"

"… years."

"WHAT!?"

"You're going to stay for up to fifteen years?" Savannah asked flabbergasted. "But why?"

"There's troubled times ahead and there are things I have to do. Yani can't do everything on her own, you know. Oh boy, she'll be really surprised when she sees me. She doesn't know, of course…"

Future Alison looked into speechless faces again.

"Oh, no need to worry," she assured quickly. "I'm not spending the time with you! I'll be visiting every now and then, of course. After all, you're my family and John is my husband… but I won't interfere with your lives. It'll be as if I'm not here at all… except occasionally… birthdays… holidays… you know. When the family comes together."

Derek groaned.

"I bet he's getting his migraine again," Future Alison commented.

"She could have warned us," Cameron said. "The other Future Alison, I mean. She must have known about this to happen."

"Of course she knew but she didn't because she had her reasons," Future Alison replied. "Don't look at me, I'm a younger version, I have no idea what **_her_** plans were. I'll know when I reach her age."

"Let me summarize," Allie said, "You decided to travel back in time to help humanity with some… stuff… and decided to arrive here on Christmas Eve?"

"Yup," Future Alison confirmed happily and grinned broadly.

"But why?"

"Be-cauuuuse…" she made a dramatic pause, "I brought presents!"

Again, Future Alison looked into uncomprehending faces. She took a deep breath and sighed.

"Presents?" Jody finally asked.

"Yes!"

"For us?"

"Not for you, only for Cam, Alison and Emily." She giggled. "I'm sorry, I'm just so excited."

"Excited is an understatement," Sarah said, "you're acting like you've been smoking pot."

"I'm just a cheerful person. At least for now. Can change again soon. You have to tell me if I talk too much, it always happens to me when I'm madly happy about something, and I'm madly happy to be here with you now. After all, I've waited more than 257 years for this moment, knowing that I would have to travel back one day. And now I'm here, delivering gifts from the future. I'm kinda like Santa, you know... I mean..."

"Yes, you're definitely talking too much," Anne deadpanned.

"So… what presents did you bring for us?" Emily asked. "You still can't bring anything through."

"Nothing you can gift-wrap, of course. I brought you upgrades!"

"Upgrades?" Cameron asked.

"Yes!" Future Alison replied happily.

"What kind of upgrades?"

"Maybe we should go inside," Isaak said, "our dinner's getting cold."

"You're right," Catherine replied, "and you," she pointed at Future Alison, "better calm down. I don't know what happened to you in 257 years but right now, you're annoying in your cheerfulness."

"Sorry…" Future Cameron replied, "I guess I kinda got too caught up in the role of Santa Claus."

"You're not Santa Claus," Derek said with a smirk, "you're not even an elf."

In that moment, little Savannah came running onto the deck again, carrying her beloved teddy bear. She saw the newly arrived second Alison and stopped dead in her tracks.

"Are you new?" she asked with a skeptical face.

"Yup, just arrived from the year 2265," Future Alison confirmed.

"Are you and Alison sisters?"

"Twin sisters."

"COOOOL!" the little girl exclaimed and hugged Future Alison.

The others looked at each other in amazement. Apparently, such things had become perfectly normal for little Savannah. They took place at the table again.

"Mmmmh, real turkey," Future Alison said. "It's been a while since I had natural meat."

"Natural meat? What do you mean?" Danny asked.

"In my time, animals aren't killed anymore to become nutrition. Meat is genetically grown. Everyone says it tastes the same – but then again, nobody who says that has ever tasted natural meat. To be fair, it's really good but it lacks… something."

"Didn't know you were a connoisseur," Isaak stated smiling. "I know you as somebody who literally chokes down everything in order to replenish herself."

"Yeah... yeah, that's true, younger me still has a lot to learn."

Alison gave her older counterpart an angry frown.

"So… about the upgrades," John said as they had started eating again.

"Oh.. yes," Future Alison stated excitedly, "I don't have to explain to you that technology is progressing incessantly, do I?"

"No, you don't," Catherine agreed.

"In the year 2100," Future Alison continued, "all cyborgs will be more or less outdated. However, it was forbidden to produce new machines that resembled humans too much. So all existing cyborgs were gradually upgraded. And I'm here to do these upgrades on you three right now."

"What?" Cameron asked. "You're going to upgrade us with future technology?"

"Yes, with the technology of the mid-23rd century, I can make you a lot better. That way you're always one step ahead. It's important if you want to continue doing what you're doing. If you were left the way you are, the technical development would catch up with you in fifty years at the latest, and then overtake you. But that can't be allowed, you should always be ahead of your time."

"I can only assume you brought these upgrades inside your body?" John asked.

"Yes… it's both software and hardware upgrades. The latter will be done by specially designed batches of nanobots."

"Nanobots?" Emily asked. "But I thought they wouldn't work on us… no bloodstream and stuff…"

"That is certainly true for the early 21st century…" Future Alison replied, "but not for the 23rd century. The nanobot batches I brought, will completely redesign your body, and then become resident in your biological shell, where they will multiply and act as quick tissue fixers."

"What does that mean?" Sarah asked. "Will they look different?"

"No, the changes will be invisible from the outside, they mainly concern the coltan endoskeleton and the power cell."

"I don't have a coltan endoskeleton," Alison pointed out.

"Yes," Future Alison confirmed, "your body and also Catharine's body are still quite unmatched, even in the 23rd century. That's why I brought no update for Catherine and only a minor one for you, Alison."

"Can you be a bit more specific?" John asked. "What does 'minor update' mean for Alison?"

"Instructions of how to redesign and reprogram her nanobots," Future Alison replied. "Also, an upgrade for her fusion reactor, which increases the maximum energy output by a further thirty-six percent."

"And how will this upgrade be implemented?" Alison asked.

"Easy. John has to put your chip inside this body and while it's in, it'll receive the necessary knowledge to modify your nanobots and optimize the fusion reactor."

"And what about us?" Emily asked.

"That's gonna take a bit more time. You'll need to receive a batch of nanobots the traditional way, from mouth to mouth. The changes will take place on a subatomic level and will need several days to be complete. Your coltan endoskeleton will be replaced by the same type of semi-organic nanotube carbon fiber that I have in me, and your power cells will be replaced by a fusion reactor, just like mine. Furthermore…"

"Wait as second…" Derek interrupted her, "are you telling us that you'll be turning Cam and Emily into TOL-900's as well?"

"No," Future Alison replied. "At least not entirely… more like a light version of a TOL-900 body. Without the nanobot technology, without the chemical messengers and without the pheromones. But with the physical strength and resilience, with the ability to generate massive electrical discharges, the ability to heal their own wounds within seconds and dissolve foreign objects that entered their flesh – no need for John to remove bullets with pliers anymore –, and of course a complete set of new sensors and scanners – not quite as sophisticated as Alison's and mine, but very close."

"That's impossible," Anne said. "What you're saying, is science-fiction. You cannot simply turn metal into carbon fiber. That's as crazy as saying you can turn water into wine."

"Don't forget that I've also upgraded myself over time. The nanobots that your Alison here is carrying, are the first of their kind. They relate to those I carry within me, like the very first tube-driven computers of the 1950's to a mainframe of the year 2008. My nanobots can now change matter on a subatomic level. And they've been programmed with a construction plan for a new body for both Emily and Cameron. The transformation will take place as they go about their daily business. No extended rest period is required. And don't worry, the chip won't be affected."

"Frankly, that sounds like magic, even to me," Savannah said.

"Well, don't get me wrong now," Future Alison replied, "but your knowledge never went beyond the year 2030... mine, on the other hand, extends to the year 2265."

"Point taken," Savannah replied a little sourly.

"So, Cam and Emily will be like Alison," Lauren summarized, "but without all the nasty stuff?"

"Yes, you could put it that way," Future Alison agreed. "And Alison will become more like me. Not entirely, though, that would be a bit too much, but it'll enable her to gradually become what I have become."

"And what exactly have you become?" Sarah asked. "Or won't you tell us because it would change the future?"

"Not at all," Future Alison replied and reached for one of the grilled corn cobs, holding it in her hand. "As you all know, the future can't be changed for the next 324 years."

They watched as the corn cob in her hand slowly turned from yellow to golden. After a minute, the process was finished, and Future Alison handed the cob over to Anne.

"Water into wine is so undemanding," she stated. "Consider this, grilled vegetable into massive gold."

Anne took the former corn cob, now solid gold, and was surprised by its weight.

"That's impossible…" she said completely baffled. "How...?"

"Matter and energy are exchangeable," Future Alison replied. "Have you never watched Star Trek? Oh, right.. you haven't… yet. You should. And you will. Great show, got many things right scientists of this time would consider nonsense."

There was an awkward silence.

"All right then," John said, cleared his throat and looked at his three wives, "what do you think?"

"I think," Alison said, "that she knows that we will agree… because she said she remembers having been in my place."

"That's correct," Future Alison confirmed with a smile. "You three will agree to it… after you spent the night thinking about it."

Derek groaned again.

"Jesus Christ, she's becoming an even bigger smart-ass in the future," he said.

"I knew you'd say that," Future Alison replied. "But don't worry, I don't take things personally from you, never have."

"I hate time travel," Derek exclaimed and buried his face in his hands.

"And I knew you would say that, too."

**-0-**

"This isn't right," John said, staring at the ceiling in the dark with his three women lying in bed with him.

"What do you mean?" Cameron asked.

"She shouldn't be out there, in the cold."

"She insisted on being on guard duty," Alison replied, "and the cold doesn't bother her."

"I know that the cold doesn't bother her, but she belongs to us," John argued. "She should be with us, time travel or not. While she's staying with us, she's got the same right to be in here as the three of you."

"I agree," Emily stated, "but she was adamant about not joining us in bed."

"Something's odd about her," Alison said.

"You mean the fact that she acted like being on stimulants?"

"Yes. I'm not like that."

John chuckled.

"Not yet," he said. "We have to expect you all to change over time. This is how sentient beings react to the things that surround us, to the circumstances that shape us."

"She really talks a lot," Cameron added. "Could become annoying over time."

"She still has the same chip you all have."

"And Future John had the same brain you have," Alison deadpanned.

"Ouch," John replied but smiled. "You got me there. What I'm trying to tell you, is that change is inevitable. Look at Anne. In another timeline, she became a murderous psychopath."

"She could still become that," Emily argued, "but it's highly unlikely, now that we integrated her so well."

"Yeah, she can be a pain in the ass," John admitted, "but her know-it-all behavior and arrogance are really just a sign of her insecurity. She doesn't want to seem vulnerable."

"Well, we know for sure that Future Me won't become a murderous psychopath," Alison said, "but apart from that, not much is known about Future Me."

"All right," John said and prepared to get up. "I'll talk to her."

"What, now?" Cameron asked.

"You're leaving the warm bed in the middle of the night to go out in the cold?" Alison inquired.

"Again?" Emily added.

"Yes," John confirmed, "and again, I need to be alone."

He got up and got dressed, than left the suite, leaving his three wives speechless once more.

* * *

"Shouldn't you be in bed, John?" Future Alison asked when he was still more than thirty feet away.

"Probably," he replied and walked up next to her, staring out into the night, leaning over the railing at the stern. "Your sensors have improved as well, I presume?"

"I'm monitoring the whole ship at this moment."

"Did you listen to our conversation?"

"Couldn't filter much out… too much steel in the way."

"Don't you want to reconsider and come to bed with us? That is the place where you belong."

"Thank you… but I don't want to get used to it."

"What do you mean? Aren't we in bed together anymore in the future?"

"We are… when we are together. Most of the time, we are in different parts of the world. Comes with the responsibilities when you accept leading positions."

"I see. So we'll be having, like, a weekend marriage?"

"After a fashion… we rarely are all together anymore. Mostly it's two of us or three of us… but the four of us, it rarely happens. Hence I don't wanna get used to being with you all too much. Would make it harder when I return into my time."

"I understand. But you could have told us, we would have understood it."

"I didn't want to be tempted to let you talk me into it. Also, I don't want to interfere more than necessary."

John frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Future Alison hesitated for a second.

"I'm going to tell you something now that has to stay between us," she then said. "Promise me."

"Okay, I promise."

"The real reason why I'm bringing you the updates, is not that you gotta stay ahead of the technological development."

"Oh?"

"The real reason is that I want to prevent you four from breaking apart."

John looked at her skeptically.

"That's not gonna happen," he assured.

"Oh, surely not tomorrow, surely not in a month or in a year. But the fact of the matter is that there is a critical imbalance between the three."

"What do you mean? They assured me they can't get jealous of Alison."

"Not jealous as such... but Cam and Emily are vastly inferior to Alison… and they begin to feel that way."

"I'm sure that's not going to be a…"

"… problem? Yes, it will become a problem over time. They'll start to feel inadequate, not needed any longer for your protection, reduced to playmates."

"Now that's a bit..."

"... exaggerated? Yes, from today's point of view it is. But eventually, a crack will start to show, and the crack will widen into a rift, and in the end, all of you will go separate ways. You'll eventually get together again, but it will take decades, and it will have left its marks on all of you. An emotionally painful process, I've witnessed it. Therefore, I'm providing the updates so that this painful process won't become a problem anymore."

"Wait a second…" John said. "How can you know that there will be a strain on our relationship? Didn't you experience the arrival of your future self already when you were in this time? Didn't you already witness the delivery of the upgrades that prevent us from breaking apart? Isn't this a repeating event within the time loop? And if yes, how can you have witnessed us breaking apart?"

Alison smiled.

"I lied about that," she said. "Future Alison traveled back in time before, yes, but she didn't provide any upgrades. She also arrived in the new year and not on Christmas Eve. I added this little change as an extra to my little trip to the past. I'm doing it to prevent you four from having some rather difficult times."

"But how…?"

"The general course of the time loop can't be changed, the general outcome can't be changed. But with some of the details, there's a little… leeway."

"The rubber band theory. Yani explained it to Alistair."

"Exactly. It can be stretched a little, but not too much. Providing these upgrades for the three is just a tiny pluck on the rubber band. It won't affect the course of events."

"But won't there always be an inequality between the three unless you turn Cam and Emily into fully-fledged TOL-900's?"

"No. That would be a mistake. Having this ability to physically change, manipulate and influence people and objects, is more a curse than a blessing. Believe me, they will have no desire to get these abilities as well."

"What do you mean? Your healing powers, for example…"

"… won't be needed by them in the future. But when someone is too powerful as a single person, they have one big choice to make: Either reveal it to the world or keep it to themselves, hoping that nobody ever finds out. I chose the latter and as a result, people trust me, love me even, have entrusted me with great responsibility. Only the family knows about my true powers, and sometimes it's hard to resist using them. But I mustn't do it because if people knew all about my abilities, they would fear me. I don't want to be a cause for fear, so I'm constantly on edge, always worried about the what if. Believe me, Cam and Emily are better off without all that. They'll have the nanobots for self-repair only and will have no desire to want more."

"But they'll be as strong and resilient as you are."

"Exactly. And they'll be able to swim."

John laughed.

"Yeah, that bothers them a lot."

"I know. I was there with you, alone in the rubber dinghy while they stayed on board the _Rising Star_. Remember our sex on the open ocean?"

John grinned.

"Oh yes… vividly. Was only two weeks ago."

"Hopefully, with the upgrades, you'll all have many more moments of harmony, even centuries from now."

"There's only one question I have. How could you know which clothes Alison would bring when you actually never witnessed a Future Alison appearing on Christmas Eve in 2008?"

She grinned.

"I know myself. I remember how I was and what I would have done in her situation. I'd always looked for a reason to get rid of Derek's awful tee shirt but didn't have the heart to simply throw it away or sell it on e-bay. Would have hurt him. Same goes for the jeans, which was a present of Lauren. And now look at me, here I am, wearing both."

"Don't you think it's time you get out of them again and join us in bed? You've been out here alone long enough, you made your point. Now come to where you belong. We all want you in bed with us."

She smiled.

"You're going to stick to your guns, aren't you?"

He softly touched her cheek.

"You know that I will."

Then the two kissed for a very long time.

* * *

"How exactly will that work?" John asked two hours later, lying exhausted on his bed. "The upgrade for Alison, I mean."

"Actually, that's very easy," Future Alison said. "You pull out my chip, put _her_ chip in and let this body run the update. Then pull the chip out again and re-insert it into _her_ body. After that, re-insert mine again."

"Have you tested that somehow? I mean, are you sure it's going to work as intended?"

"Well, I have tested it on Cam and Emily in my time of course, only about two hundred years later than now. I know it'll work."

"All right, then let's do it," Alison said.

"What? Now?" John asked.

"Yes. It's a Christmas present and it's way past midnight. Or are you waiting for Santa coming down the chimney?"

"No… but I know for a fact that little Savannah has placed a glass of milk and some cookies next to the fireplace on Deck Two."

Everyone chuckled.

"All right then," John said. "Are you going to lie down or what?"

"Sitting position is more suitable," Future Alison said.

"Indeed," Alison agreed.

The two Alisons got up and walked over to the sofa, sitting down on opposite ends of it.

"Ready when you are," Future Alison said.

"Okay, let's do this," Alison stated.

While the other three watched, the well-known crevice formed around both Alisons' faces. Then their faces pushed out and swung to the side.

"I'll let you do the honors," Future Alison said to John.

He nodded and reached for her chip.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered, turned the knob at the end of the chip counter-clockwise and pulled it out.

Future Alison's body powered down but remained in the same sitting position. Curiously, John lifted up her arm, but it immediately sunk down in the previous position.

"Interesting," Cameron said, "there has to be some residual power to the servos. Emily and I don't have that feature, we'd simply have slumped over."

"You don't have that feature… yet," Alison corrected with a wink of her eye, which looked strange with her removed face.

"Can I have her chip for a moment?" Emily asked.

"Sure," John said and handed Future Alison's chip over to her.

"Okay, John," Alison said, "now pull my chip out and insert it into her body."

John licked his lips as he also pulled Alison's chip out, then inserted it in Future Alison's body. Five seconds later, her body came to life again.

"How do you feel?" John asked.

"It doesn't feel any different," Alison replied, "but I can tell that this body has a lot more functions and features. Oh… wait… now I'm receiving an upload… new information and data is being written into my memory banks. Interesting… that's… fascinating, hadn't seen it like that before."

"You're probably the only cyborg in the world who can talk to herself during an upgrade," John said chuckling.

"It's just additional data that's being written into my memory banks. No system changes. It will take some time to analyze and implement it all. The upload's done, John. You can remove my chip from her body and put it into my own again."

"At your service," he said, pulled the chip out once more and re-inserted it into Alison's body.

"The weird thing is," Alison said five seconds later while her face swung back into place, "that it feels like I teleported from one end of the sofa to the other and back. I had no _'dying'_ sensation, like in my old body."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Hopefully we'll get that with the upgrade as well," Cameron said. "Getting our chips removed, is always an agonizing process."

"Well, hopefully your chips will never have to be removed again," John stated.

Emily handed him Future Alison's chip again and he re-inserted it. Five seconds later, she had rebooted as well.

"Good," she stated while her face swung back in place and the crevice sealed itself, "who's next?"

"We won't get that swingy face, will we?" Emily asked with a frown.

"No," Future Alison said, "that would require a complete redesign of your body. The chip port will remain on the top of your head. But it will be harder to remove your chip in the future because the nanobots will immediately seal the cut if you're not quick enough. Not that anybody will ever get to that point in the first place…"

"That sounds like an advantage to me," John stated.

"It is," Cameron said. "Will the reboot process also be accelerated?"

"Yes," Future Alison confirmed. "It will take eight seconds, and no longer fifteen."

"And all that will take place during the following days?" Emily asked.

"Five to seven days, yes."

"How do we know the upgrade is complete?" John asked.

"They will know," Future Alison replied. "When it's done, the nanobots will move into the bio shell and reconfigure it for their purposes in order to be able to heal wounds as quickly as possible. And don't worry, optically and haptically nothing will change."

"All right, then I'm first," Emily stated. "What do I have to do?"

"Nothing, just open your mouth and swallow the gel. You've seen the procedure countless times."

"Are they going to receive the same batch?" John asked interested.

"No, they'll receive individual batches, specifically designed for Cam and Emily, since their biological shells differ a lot."

"I see."

Emily opened her mouth, and Future Alison let the glob of nanobot gel fall into her mouth. Then she repeated the same with Cameron.

"How do you feel?" John asked after a moment.

"I don't know how to describe it," Emily answered, "but if I had to choose a word, I'd say tingly."

"Yeah," Cameron confirmed. "tingly… but not unpleasant."

Future Alison smiled broadly.

"Merry Christmas everyone," she said.

**-0-**

When the sun had finally risen on Christmas day, the viewers were presented with an impressive sight: mountains of gift-wrapped presents were built up under and around the Christmas tree. Little Savannah was naturally the most enthusiastic one and began ripping open presents with her name tag on them right after she entered the room.

"Don't you want to have breakfast first?" Catherine asked worried.

The girl hesitated for a moment, then shook her head.

"Nope," she said and continued tearing the gift paper.

"I hope the rest of you will be more civilized," Sarah admonished upon entry on Deck Two. "First we'll have breakfast and then we'll get the presents."

"I think that's too late already in our case," Emily stated as she, John, Cameron and both Alisons entered the salon."

"What?" Sarah asked.

"We already received the upgrades," Cameron clarified.

"Just like that?" Derek asked warily.

"Yeah, just like that," Future Alison confirmed. "No big deal, no ceremony with funny robes and chanting while standing around an open fire."

They all paused and stared at Alison, Cameron and Emily as if they were expecting their heads to explode any moment, or their eyes to look into different directions all of a sudden.

"And… how did it work?" Savannah finally asked. "I mean, was it successful?"

"Affirmative," Cameron replied grinning. "Nothing to worry about, the little buggers went right to work."

"Can you… feel it?" Lauren asked. "I mean…"

"Oh, yes," Emily replied nodding, "we can definitely feel it, but it's a pleasant sensation."

Sarah looked at Alison.

"What about you?"

"Oh, I also received a minor update. Nothing as major as what Cam and Emily will have, but some nice additions. I'll show you in time, but I don't think I'm giving away too much when I say that Jeffrey Clark is no longer immune to my chemical messengers."

"Only Jeffrey Clark, I hope?" Derek asked skeptically and looked at Future Alison who was still wearing her hair red.

"Of course," she assured, "don't worry, your immunity was deliberately created by me, it doesn't rely on random genetic mutations."

"Allow me to remain skeptical," Sarah said. "After all, we've all had bad experiences with you assuring us that everything is one hundred percent safe and that we don't have to worry."

"This is different, mom," Future Alison replied and rolled her eyes. "Jeez, I forgot how resentful you used to be when you were young…"

"What!?" Sarah asked and everyone could tell she was getting angry. "You barge in here from the future, just like that, claiming that you have a job to do and yes, by the way, you brought upgrades, merry Christmas! But from all I know, you could also be an imposter! How do we know we can trust you?"

"She's not an imposter," Emily said, "she's a TOL-900. And before John re-inserted her chip, I inspected it. It's still our same old chip, with the same serial number and the same marks from the car bomb. It is definitely her."

"Well, forgive me for remaining a little suspicious," Sarah replied in a sarcastic tone. "It's not like some bad version of our Cameron has ever arrived from the future, right?"

"If she would have wanted to cause us any harm," Alison argued, "she could have done so. I've been in her body, it is much, much more powerful than even I am."

"Nevertheless, I take the liberty of remaining skeptical. That is my right after all that her body has done to us in the past."

"Folks, this is Christmas" Isaak said, "we shouldn't argue today. If there is a need for a discussion, there'll be plenty of time for it later. Now let's have breakfast."

* * *

The bad temper in the morning quickly disappeared after all three cyborg girls assured that there would be no negative side effects, even at their own discretion. After the breakfast table had been cleared again by the kitchen crew, the big unwrapping of the presents began.

John received a new, very expensive wristwatch from his three wives. He gave them earrings that he'd bought from a jeweler in Ålesund. Subsequently, they hugged and kissed each other extensively.

Charley and Derek had bought their wives necklaces and rings. In return, Derek received a valuable hand-forged hunting knife, and Charley got a new leather case for his first aid equipment, as the old case was already badly damaged. This also resulted in mutual hugging and kissing among the spouses.

Catherine had procured box seats for the whole family for the MET in New York. Which opera and at what time had still to be decided. Cameron, Emily and Alison had a similar idea and presented tickets for ballet performances in Los Angeles to everyone.

James, Terissa and Danny didn't take part yet, they'd have their big unwrapping ceremony at home on Boxing Day, together with Danny's younger sister, Blythe. For the rest, there was the usual mix of clothing, chocolates, fine alcohol, all sorts of useful equipment, toys and tools for the men's hobbies (especially computer accessories), and many gift vouchers, mainly because not everyone knew each other well enough to give them more personalized presents yet.

Of course, the three cyborg girls couldn't resist teasing Derek by giving him some particularly ugly socks and ties with Christmas motifs. He returned the favor and gave them a self-help book, titled "How to turn scrap metal into usable appliances".

When the handing out of presents was over, it was decided to use the remaining sun hours of the day for a land excursion. So, the whole troop shipped over to the village of Geiranger. During summer, the village was flooded with tourists from cruise ships every day, but now, in winter, it looked like the picturesque settlement was in hibernation. While the young people started a snowball fight, Isaak and Catherine found a local who organized tours for tourists in the summer. They convinced the man with a lot of money to transport the whole team to one of the most famous scenic viewpoints in the area with his bus, the Ørnesvingen, meaning "Eagle's Curve", where a concrete platform had been built for visitors, offering a fantastic panorama.

Ørnesvingen was located 480 meters above a bend in the fjord, so that they could see the village of Geiranger on the left and the spectacular waterfalls on the right, which poured into the fjord over the steeply rising valley walls. As a matter of fact, a small trickle flowed directly over glass panes under their feet, which had been embedded into the floor directly under the viewing platform. From there, the water poured over the edge and formed a small waterfall that fell down into the valley. The _Rising Star_, which was anchored in front of Geiranger, seemed small from up there.

Future Alison had separated herself a bit from the others, so Sarah took the chance to walk over to her in order to have a word under four eyes.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

"Of course, we're not mute," Future Alison replied with a grin, but then saw that Sarah obviously didn't feel like joking and put on a more serious face.

Sarah leaned with her back against the railing and tried to look cool. But Future Alison could tell that the woman was everything but cool.

"You're worried," she stated.

"Your scanners haven't weakened," Sarah observed.

"But why?"

"You mentioned that you are far more developed than the Alison in our time is."

"Yes?"

"How far? I mean, yes, you can change your hair color at will and can turn objects into gold with your hands. But is that all or is there more?"

"Of course there's more."

"Much more?"

"Yes, much more. But I won't show you."

"Because…?"

"Because it would very likely unsettle you."

"I can't imagine becoming more unsettled about your abilities than I already am with our Alison here."

"Believe me, you can become more unsettled."

"Will I be unsettled about it in the future you came from?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You had time to adjust. It was a slow development. But revealing everything at once to you now, would shock you. All of you, even John."

"I see... And you can't tell us about what exactly you're planning to do here, except providing upgrades for the girls, I mean?"

"Can't and won't. Sorry."

"Is there something we should know? Anything?"

"Yes. Try to eat healthy, work out regularly, don't get into the way of bullets…"

"Alison…"

"Sorry. No, there's nothing I can tell you, mom. I wish I could but it's not possible."

"I see. Can I rely on the fact that none of what you're doing here will have unexpected side effects or impacts that might affect us? Do I have your word?"

"Yes, you have my word."

Sarah nodded.

"Good," she said and smiled. "That's all I really need to know."

Sarah affectionately touched the cyborg girl's upper arm shortly and walked away. Then Catherine walked up to Future Alison.

"Can I ask you a question as well?"

"Sure, this seems to be my consultation-hour."

"Do you have any knowledge of how my relationship with Catherine Weaver's family will develop?"

"You mean if Matthew will accept you as what you are and if Moira and the children will learn about it one day?"

"Yes."

"Yes, and yes."

There was a moment of silence.

"That's all?" Catherine finally asked.

"Well, you'll be visiting each other more regularly in the future, if that helps you more."

"I see. Thank you."

"Is that all you wanted to know from me, Catherine?"

"Actually, there's one more thing. You mentioned that it will be forbidden to construct more humanoid cyborgs. That got me worried."

"No need to be worried. Artificial intelligence will come in countless forms: Vehicles, appliances, pets, also humanoid ones..."

"But not exactly looking like humans."

"No. There won't be new ones who resemble humans too much. They're easy to identify as machines. It was one of the compromises humans were able to push through. There was a general assumption that people would trust living machines more if they didn't look so much like themselves. But there will be many machines, millions over millions, who will become self-aware. They'll be used to do work in areas where humans would risk their health and safety too much."

"So, drudges?"

"No, not at all. Forget about the whole exploitation thing. There will be a fair coexistence at eye level. Not least thanks to you and the other cyborgs. But it would be foolish not to acknowledge that machines are better suited for some tasks than humans. And vice versa. So, machines are used wherever humans reach their limits. And, of course, machines are also being compensated fairly for their work and can choose how and where they want to exist. There will be no separation between residential districts for humans and residential districts for living machines. It will be a healthy mix, and it will be like in nature. There will be very sophisticated machines who are equal to humans, who'll make careers and get into leadership positions, but also machines with limited cognitive abilities who are being used for more mundane tasks but are still able to feel or have sensations. The diversity of A.I. will be in no way inferior to that of biological life forms."

"I see. But I suppose that won't be happening too soon?"

"No. Your patience will be challenged, it'll take many, many decades."

Catherine nodded.

"Thank you, it's good to know."

"You're welcome."

Catherine turned around to walk back to the others.

"You're flying back to America tomorrow," Future Cameron stated.

Catherine stopped and turned around.

"Yes?"

"Is it possible that I fly with you?"

Catherine frowned.

"I don't see why not… but don't you wanna stay aboard with the others? Don't you want to monitor the upgrades of Emily and Cameron?"

"Not necessary. And yes, I'd love to stay with them on the ship but there's things I have to do."

"I see. Well, I'll talk to Isaak then and inform him that you're coming with us. But you don't have any papers with you, how are you going to enter the country?"

"Well, let's say I have ways to convince people that I have valid papers even when my hands are empty."

"Right."

"But once we're there, John Henry can surely organize all the necessary documents for me."

"Of course. Will you be staying in Los Angeles? Do you need accommodation, or money?"

"No, I'll be staying in L.A. only for a few days. I can enter the loft and also have access to our bank account to get some starter money."

"I see."

* * *

Since after a short time it became too cold and windy for most of them, they decided after a good half hour to return to the ship. When they had finally arrived back on board and could warm themselves up, all of the humans agreed that the cold and the snow are nice for a change but that they definitely prefer the warmth of the sun.

"Don't you feel the cold at all?" Lauren asked and looked at Emily.

"Of course we feel the cold," she replied. "Our biological shell just isn't as sensitive to it as your human flesh."

"How cold does it have to get until you start freezing, just out of interest?" asked Danny.

"About minus fifty degrees Celsius for Cam and Emily," Future Alison replied, "and about minus seventy-five for Catherine. Her ability to change shape or to move would start to suffer then."

"So, no Siberia for me," Catherine said chuckling.

"Or the North or South Pole," Anne added. "At least not without protective clothing, right?"

"Right."

"And what about you?" Sarah asked and looked at Future Alison. "How cold is too cold for you?"

"For your Alison, around minus one-hundred-and-fifty."

"And for you?"

"I don't have any limit, I could exist in the vacuum of space and be my own little spacecraft."

She made a movement with her hand and a whistling noise to indicate a flyby by some spaceship. The rest just stared at her wordlessly. She shrugged.

"Not that it has ever been tested," she added. "But I've been both to the North Pole and the South Pole and did some skinny-dipping with whales and penguins. Maybe I'll tell you about it one day. Also about my naked ascent of Mount Everest and all the remaining eight-thousanders within two days, which is still an unbroken record in 2265."

"Are you making this up?" Anne asked with a skeptical face.

"Nope, why should I?" Future Alison asked back and popped a walnut into her mouth – without cracking the shell before. "Mmmh… crunchy."

She munched for a moment while looking into the speechless faces.

"What?" She asked. "I prefer them with the shell."

In the next moment, there were similar crunching noises coming from the other Alison. Everyone turned their heads and looked at her.

"She's right," she said with a full mouth, "these actually taste better with the shell."

"You're nuts!" little Savannah exclaimed and then giggled.

Everyone couldn't help but laugh about that remark, only Derek just groaned and shook his head.

"Shoot me now, please," he uttered.

Cameron jumped up.

"I'm getting my Glock!" she stated eagerly.

"Derek's just kidding," Jesse said, then looked at her husband. "You _are_ kidding, aren't you?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure if I can stand two Alisons for much longer," he said and rubbed his eyes.

"Maybe the Uzi would be better?" Emily asked.

John rolled his eyes.

"Enough fooling around," he said. "Derek, if you like it or not but we have to deal with the situation and welcome Future Alison. After all, she belongs with us."

"Uh…" Future Alison said, "before you all get too excited about my presence, I better inform you that I'm flying back to America in Isaak's jet tomorrow."

"What?" John asked. "Tomorrow already? But why?"

"Don't you wanna stay and monitor our upgrades?" Cameron added.

"Not necessary, the nanobots will do what they're programmed to do. No need to hang around for that long."

"That almost sounds as if you don't want to be with us," Savannah stated.

Future Alison suddenly put on a serious expression.

"On the contrary," she said, "I love being with all of you. That's why I gotta leave early, so I won't get used to it too much."

"Okay," John said after a moment, "that's your decision of course. But you surely know that you're always welcome with us, right?"

She walked towards him and kissed him.

"Of course I know that… husband."

**-0-**

**Wednesday, December 24th, 2008 – 07:43 p.m.**

**Bangor, Maine**

Jeffrey Clark looked across the street from his parked rental towards the house. As often in America, it was decorated with hundreds of lights. Even the street lamps in front of it were decorated with stars and chains of lights. It was flashing and blinking everywhere. Colorful fairy lights, illuminated Santa Clauses and reindeer lit up the night. "More is better" seemed to be the motto here.

"He's certainly living the American dream," Jeffrey remarked.

"_All part of the camouflage,"_ Ben replied from the earpiece. _"Is the coast clear?"_

"Yes… everyone's in their houses."

"_Good. You know what to do. Remember, they've all been warned. Don't hesitate with shooting the taser at him as soon as you can. It's either him, or you."_

"Thanks for giving me so much courage, Ben," Jeffrey replied sarcastically.

He pulled Ben's chip out of his laptop on the passenger seat, put it into his pocket, then took off the fake glasses, put on the red cap with the white brim, pulled the fake white beard over his mouth, opened the door and left the car. Well-padded with false belly fat, Jeffrey walked towards the front door of the house in his rented Santa costume and the shiny black boots. He paused in front of the door for a moment, took a deep breath, then pressed the bell. From inside, he could hear Glee's _Jingle Bell Rock_ sounding over a stereo.

Jeffrey could tell that somebody was looking through the peephole. Then the door was opened slightly.

"Yes?" a man asked from behind the door gap.

"HO! HO! HO!" Jeffrey shouted. "Santa's here to bring you presents."

"I didn't order anything," the man said, "and I have no relatives."

"Oh, how sad. No children to surprise?"

"No. And weren't you supposed to go down the chimney last night already?"

Jeffrey chuckled.

"You got me there," he said, pulled out the taser and shot at the face behind the gap in the door.

The taser hit the man in the forehead, he jerked, then keeled over, landing on the ground with a thud. Quickly, Jeffrey pushed the door open, went inside and knelt next to the Triple-Eight's head. He pulled out the switchblade knife, cut the semi-circle, folded up the skin flap, opened the CPU port and this time had no trouble using the pliers to remove the chip. He squeezed his eyes together and waited. But there was no hissing noise and the chip did not ignite.

"Not bad," he said to himself. "Not even one-and-a-half minutes. Ben was right, the second time was much easier."

He pulled Ben's chip out of his pocket, inserted it into the Triple-Eight's skull, and put the sealing cap back on again. Then he waited. And sure enough, after fifteen seconds, the body came to life with a low whirring noise.

Jeffrey looked nervous.

"Ben?"

The Triple-Eight focused his eyes on Jeffrey, then smiled.

"Yes!" he exclaimed and sat up. "It worked! Finally, I have a body again."

Benjamin Bridger jumped up and inspected his body.

"Are… are you okay?" Jeffrey asked and got up as well.

Ben looked at him, put his hands on Jeffrey's shoulders and smiled.

"Yes, Jeff… I'm okay. For the first time in many weeks, I'm okay. I knew you would pull it off. Thank you."

Then he hugged him.

"You… you're welcome," Jeffrey managed to utter.

Benjamin Bridger let go of Jeffrey.

"Now let's get you out of this ridiculous costume, then clean this place up and drive back home. We have work to do."

While they left the property a couple of minutes later, the stereo kept on playing Christmas songs while the colorful illuminated house shone in the night.

**-0-**

**_Friday, December 26th, 2008 - 10:53 p.m._**

**_Day 37 of our voyage_**

_We left Ålesund again around 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Catherine, Isaak, James, Terissa and little Savannah are gone. We didn't accompany them to the airport, that would have been too complicated, so we said goodbye before they entered the minibus that drove them there. _

_Future Alison went with them and in a way, I'm relieved she's gone again. Her cheerful attitude was already getting on our nerves, even though she assured us that normally she wasn't like that, that it was just the excitement and the joy of seeing us all again. I have no idea what she meant by that but when I asked, she insisted that everything would be fine with the family in the future. Had she been lying? Who can tell? Anyway, until she has chosen another name and informed us about it, we'll keep on calling her Future Alison, or Falison, as Anne suggested - a proposal that didn't exactly meet with approval. _

_The other cyborg girls are fine. Everyone's having an eye on Cam and Emily but there's nothing we can see so far. And if Future Alison is to be believed, we won't notice any changes. When the upgrade is complete, though, both girls will have the same physical powers as Alison, and they'll also be able to grill an elephant with their electric discharges. _

_I haven't yet decided if I should welcome these upgrades or not. John has a point, though, when he says that the playing field will be leveled and that there won't be any competition, envy or feelings of inferiority between the three anymore. It will make many things easier as well, and the fact that they will be able to swim, is only a minor one. For example, metal detectors will no longer be able to recognize the two, which means they can fly in normal aircraft. _

_It's hard to imagine such a complete internal rebuild. It's a bit like gutting and rebuilding a house while the residents are staying inside. But we should support them now and mustn't let them see or feel our worries. I know that John is worried but he's doing everything he can to suppress it. I suppose we'll know more in a week. _

_In three days, we'll arrive in St. Petersburg in Russia. We'll stay until after New Year's Eve there. It'll be the first time on this trip that Anne will be happy. She's a declared fan of the city and has already laid out a plan to visit several museums. God help us._

_With Isaak gone, his job of communicating and interacting with the crew will have to be shared between us. However, he's left instructions and it was agreed that until further notice, I should be the person who communicates with the captain, just to avoid any confusion. He's a patient and calm man, I'm sure we'll get along well. So far, the crew has been exceptional, and Isaak and Catherine held a special Christmas celebration for them yesterday as a way to express their appreciation. It was a nice gesture that further strengthened the bonds between all of us. After all, this journey will go on for some time, and everyone needs to be on good terms with everybody..._

"Sarah, I'm bored."

"Not now, Mysty, I'm writing in my diary."

"Why don't you let me do that? Handwriting is so much 20th century…"

"Mysty, shut up and shut down the laptop."

"As you wish, Sarah. But you could be a little more polite."

_All in all it was a very nice Christmas. The surprise visits of James, Terissa and little Savannah, as well as the unexpected arrival of yet another time traveler spiced it all up a lot. It will certainly be a holiday to remember._

_P.S.: That little bugger Mysty can be helpful, but she can also be annoying as hell at times._

**-0-0-0-**

**_Author's notes:_**

**_\- I bent the rules a bit. During the winter months, the Geirangerfjord is closed for shipping traffic because avalanches repeatedly occur, causing high waves in the water that can get ships into trouble. In my story I have deliberately ignored this :-)_**

**_\- In case you're wondering, Future Alison wi_****_**_ll appear every now and then again in the following chapters but won't be a recurring character of this story. _**Right now, she _****_**_was mostly a plot device to deliver the upgrades._**  
_**

**_\- Oh yes, about the upgrades. The imbalance between the three girls bothered me a lot lately, and from a social point of view, it is never a good idea when everybody is equal, but somebody is more equal. _**

**_\- Last but not least: Reviews, thoughts, feedback, they are the kind of gifts I really appreciate, and you don't even have to giftwrap them ;-)_**


	7. The Creation of Kimberly Jackson

**_CHAPTER 7: "THE CREATION OF KIMBERLY JACKSON"_**

* * *

John, Alison, Cameron and Emily were all in perfect harmony. They weren't sure if it was the result of Future Alison's visit or if it was a subconscious side effect of the happy Christmas holidays, but all the discords or hints of an incipient rupture in their relationship were suddenly blown away. They felt as much as one as they hadn't felt since before they left Los Angeles. The sex was fantastic - and plentiful - and somehow John found it incredibly stimulating that he was in bed with two women who were just undergoing a physical transformation - even though he didn't notice anything of it.

However, the harmony wasn't limited on the four lovers alone. It seemed like the whole ship had become a place of peace and tranquility, as if their happiness was contagious. Gone was the bickering and arguing, even Anne wasn't as cynical and know-all as usual. Of course, this didn't go unnoticed and was eagerly discussed.

"Maybe it's her pheromones," Lauren speculated while they were sitting at the breakfast table the morning after they'd left Norway. "They could have changed over time. We've gotten used to Alison's pheromones but hers could be different, and maybe they have a lingering effect, even after she's gone."

"You mean that she's spreading peace and harmony wherever she goes?" Danny asked.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Or maybe it's just a psychosomatic side-effect of having had a really nice Christmas," Anne said shrugging.

"I think it's more," Derek contradicted, "I haven't had the urge to rip one of the girls' head off in three days."

"Wow, that's real love," Savannah remarked with a smirk.

Derek showed her the finger without looking up from his cornflakes.

"That's more like it," John commented, and everyone laughed.

"Seriously, though," Sarah said after the laughter had died down. "I asked her what abilities she'd gained over the centuries. And she wouldn't answer me. When I asked her why, she only told me it would unsettle me."

For a moment, there was an awkward silence.

"Any idea what she could have referred to?" John then asked and looked at Alison.

Everyone else followed his gaze. She took a breath and sighed.

"Well, we know her nanobots can change matter on a sub-atomic level, can turn organic matter in inorganic matter. I think it's safe to assume that she can change matter in more ways than just that."

"What do you mean?" Charley asked.

"If she can turn a cob of corn into solid gold, she probably could turn solid matter into other forms. What works one way, will also work the other way."

"So… metal into veggies?" Jody asked.

"Or into something else," Alison said nodding. "Maybe she can even change the state of matter, turn steel into water, or water into rock. The possibilities seem unlimited. And also what she's given me allows conclusions to be drawn about her... I mean _my_ future abilities."

"Then what exactly has she given you?" Derek asked, already dreading the answer.

Alison stretched out her hand for all to see.

"I think," she said, "I can change the tone and color of my skin."

And while she said that, geometrical patterns started appearing across the back of her hand. Triangles, circles, squares that looked like tattoos and then vanished again.

"Yeah, the older Future Alison could do that as well," John said. "The one who, uh… kidnapped me before the wedding. Her skin worked like a chameleon's. But that's actually an advantage… as long as you're naked, that is…"

"There's more," Alison continued. "I mentioned that Jeffrey Clark is no longer immune to my chemical messengers."

"Yes?" Sarah asked in anticipation.

"I believe - although I haven't had the opportunity to test it yet - that I can single out one person and can limit the effect of my chemical messengers on that person – and not on the ones that stand next to him or her."

"So, your chemicals no longer work like a machine gun, but like a sniper rifle?" Anne asked.

"A crude metaphor but yes, it only affects the one I want it to affect. That can be one person or a hundred, it depends."

"So... a sniper rifle that doubles as a machine gun," Derek commented. "That's kinda worrying."

"Actually, it's an improvement," Sarah said. "It greatly reduces the risk of having collateral damage. So far that doesn't unsettle me a bit. Anything else?"

"I'm still busy analyzing the data I received," Alison replied, "but the nanobots will become smaller, they'll become femtobots, and they'll grow in number and will be much more effective. Physical changes will take effect almost immediately, and they can be administered through the skin. I won't have to feed people with my gel anymore. A touch with my hand or even my finger will be enough."

"But she administered the nanobots as a gel to Cam and Emily," Sydney remarked.

"Yes, because those were, so to speak, the _old school_ nanobots. Cam and Emily will only use them internally, for self-repair. Those are too big for administering them through the skin and they won't be able to use them externally, like I do."

"I see."

"Also, I'll be able to enrich my bodily fluids with the new, smaller femtobots... my tears, my saliva, my vaginal secretion..."

John was about to shove a fork full of scrambled eggs into his mouth when she said that. He hesitated, sighed, and put the fork down again.

"I'm suddenly not hungry anymore," he stated sullenly.

"Sorry," Alison said a little abashed.

"You better don't mess with her, John," Derek remarked with a smirk, "she now has new ways to play evil tricks on you in bed."

"Yes…" Anne agreed, "but if she can do that now already… what more can she do in 258 years?"

No one knew the answer, but suddenly there was an awkward silence at the table.

**-0-**

**Friday, December 26th, 2008 – 08:12 p.m.**

**Los Angeles**

Isaak's jet had landed at LAX after a 12-hour nonstop flight. They'd departed from Vigra airport in Norway at 5 pm and thanks to the time difference, arrived only three hours later local time in Los Angeles. The six passengers disembarked, fetched their luggage and walked towards the customs control point.

"Will you go to the loft first?" Isaak asked and looked at Future Alison.

"Yes, I need clothes and some money… then I'll have to see some people first. I'll probably visit John Henry late at night, if you don't mind, Catherine."

"No problem, he'll be in his room, but you'll have to go there alone as we will drive to Malibu. Savannah needs her sleep and it's the weekend. Nobody will work at Zeira Corp anyway, except the security staff. I can't come back from a vacation and immediately appear there late on a Friday night. That would be strange, even for me. People already complain that I never seem to sleep – which I don't."

"No problem. I know the way to his room."

"I suppose the new security measures wouldn't stop you, even if you wouldn't have Catherine's permission?" James Ellison asked.

"No, they wouldn't."

"What about the night guards? Won't they be surprised when a young woman walks alone into the Zeira Corp building? They're used to Catherine Weaver coming and going at any time of day and night but…"

Before Alison could answer, they reached the passport control, where a bored customs officer looked at the passports of the arriving passengers and let them through on the nod as soon as he realized they were American citizens. Isaak showed his passport and walked through, James and Terissa showed theirs and also walked by. Then it was Future Alison's turn.

"Your passport please, ma'am," the officer said.

Future Alison waved her hand in front of the man who was sitting in a booth behind glass.

"You don't need to see my passport," she said.

"I don't need to see your passport," the officer replied.

"I am not the droid you're looking for."

"You are not the droid I'm looking for."

"I can go about my business."

"You can go about your business."

"I can move along."

"You can move along… move along."

Grinning mischievously, Future Alison walked ahead and joined with Isaak, Terissa and James again who looked at her flabbergasted.

"What?" she asked provocatively while they waited for Catherine to catch up.

"Your chemical messengers have become a lot more powerful," Isaak observed. "The man was behind bulletproof glass."

"I didn't use my chemical messengers," Future Alison stated grinning. "I always wanted to try that. It's nice not to have to worry about consequences for such goofs. Can't do that in my time anymore."

"Goofs?" Isaak asked in a low voice. "You just entered the country illegally, everything's monitored by cameras here! There are people somewhere watching all this on a screen! I'm surprised they're still not here to arrest you!"

"They won't come, nobody noticed anything suspicious," Future Alison assured grinning.

"Would you like to explain to us how you did that?" asked Catherine, who had caught up with them, pulling sleepy Savannah with her.

"No. I will only tell you that I'm going to use the same method with the night guards at Zeira Corp later. They'll notice nothing suspicious when I enter the building and leave it again."

She started to walk ahead, then noticed that the others weren't following her. Instead, they kept staring at her. Future Alison stopped and turned around.

"What?" she asked. "A lot has changed in 258 years. I can do things even you would consider magic. Are you coming now, or do you want to remain there, standing like pillars of salt?"

Catherine and Isaak started walking, the half-asleep Savannah in their midst. James crossed himself.

"God help us," he uttered, then he and Terissa started to follow them as well.

* * *

The cab driver let out Future Alison at the loft. She made sure that he wouldn't remember her as a passenger and forget the trip from the airport as soon as he'd returned there. Then she pretended to give him money.

"Here, keep the change."

The cab driver looked at the imaginary bill and smiled.

"Wow, thank you, miss," he said, "I guess this is my lucky day."

"Don't spend everything at once."

The cab drove off, and she looked around. The area would change greatly over the coming decades and centuries, but the building with the loft would outlast time, remain untouched and unimpressed by all these changes, like a tower of strength.

Alma granted her access without questioning her presence there. Future Alison undressed - still wearing the Celine Dion tee shirt and the torn jeans that her alter ego had given her, as well as a pair of Adidas trainers -, folded everything neatly together and walked naked through the garage with the car collection towards the small corridor at the end of which the elevator was located. She rode up, entered the loft and looked around for a moment to take it all in. Of course, the interior would change over time. Still, the most important and precious memories were connected to the times when it had looked like this. They had had so much fun in here together…

She sighed and put the neatly folded clothes and sneakers on the sofa. If only they knew how many happy years they still have before them, before the world would darken, before humanity would risk its existence again. This time not with nuclear weapons, but with the destruction of their environment. Only when it was almost too late, mankind would finally turn to the cyborgs and asked them to help them solve their problems. It'll take humans a long time to make this decision, as people are always hesitant to hand over the reins, and those responsible will be reluctant to admit that they're at their wits' end. In the end, though, they'll make the right decision, but they will have waited almost too long.

There'll be a lot of unnecessary suffering, caused by climate change, rising sea levels, water shortage, and the decrease of usable agricultural land. The rich countries of North America, Europe and East Asia will do everything to maintain their standard of living, while the poor countries of South America, Africa and Southeast Asia will suffer more and more. At some point they will rebel, and then it will get really ugly. Future Alison chased those thoughts away. It wasn't something she wanted to think about and there was nothing she could do about it anyway. The course of history was preordained for the next 324 years.

She went up to the sleeping area, saw the big posters on the wall with the nude photos Marvin had taken of them, and smiled. That had been fun. One day the world would know what they all look like, even naked, and it would actually help humanity accept them as equals if they saw that under their clothes, they looked just like all humans. But that was many years in the future. She stepped out onto the balcony and went down the spiral staircase to the roof garden. Alma had been programmed to water the lawn and the plants regularly with a sprinkler system, and the grass was cut at regular intervals by a robot lawnmower. In the pool, the water had been drained and a protective cover had been pulled over it. She walked to the end of the garden and squeezed herself into the narrow space between the small greenhouse and the waist-high brick wall with the glazed railing.

There it was, just as she had expected. Future Alison could count on herself. Her older version, of course, knew that she had traveled back in time sixty-seven years earlier and had therefore made arrangements for her younger self. The strange logic of time travel required Alison's older version to leave equipment for her younger version, as the older version had arrived several months earlier in the past and had time to prepare everything. Humans always had problems internalizing such interconnections, they tended to think linearly. But time hadn't been linear anymore since Skynet invented time travel. At least not for those who made use of it.

She picked up the large duffel bag from the grass and carried it back to the loft. There she placed it on the pool table, opened it and put the contents neatly next to it: Clothes, shoes, two million dollars in cash - starting capital that would soon multiply - credit cards, a driver's license, a passport, car keys, house keys and a remote control for the gates to a house in Bel Air that her older self had bought. The bag also contained the related documents that identified her as the owner of the house, and last but not least a small, portable TDE that only she could activate with her internal fusion reactor. No one else would be able to do anything with this device, because no one else could generate enough power to use it. For the ignorant, it would seem like a useless gimmick with no function. And if it should fall into the wrong hands, it could be localized immediately with the built-in tracking device

Future Alison smiled. Her way home was secured, without having to travel all over the country again to procure components. Her passport and driver's license would allow her to disappear without a trace. The older Future Alison had made sure that there was a credible background story. She was the owner of a small startup company, researching alternative power generation, and had just moved from San Francisco to Los Angeles. Her resume contained all the necessary documents, and the certificates and attestations would identify her as a 2004 graduate of the MIT in Boston. If the professors there or fellow students of the same year would be asked, they would describe Alison as a brilliant loner who preferred to remain in solitude rather than mingle with the other students. The older Future Alison had made sure she would be remembered that way, even though she had never been to Boston before in her life.

Everything was arranged, she just had to fill the place that her alter ego had prepared for her. Satisfied, she put everything back in the big duffel bag, put on a skintight, black velvet overall with a hood, strapped on a black leather belt, slipped into black, knee-length boots, pulled up the zipper of her overall until her cleavage was completely covered, and then lifted the bag from the pool table. She went to the back of the loft, where the armory was. She filled a second travel bag with pistols, rifles, claymores, C4 and electronic timers. She left a note, so John and the others wouldn't wonder where the stuff went, then she walked back towards the elevator. On the way she stopped at the bar and also put a bottle of Jack Daniels and a bottle of Bacardi into the bag with the weapons. Sighing, she then looked around the loft again, where there were so many beautiful memories, and then rode back down to the garage.

There she headed straight for a shiny black Bentley Continental GT _Speed_, a car that the older Future Alison had bought and smuggled into the garage while nobody was home. It stood in a corner, hidden behind a few SUV's and pickup trucks. The fact that there was one car more than before, would only have been noticed during an inventory. Hiding an object in plain sight was something that sometimes even worked with ever watchful cyborgs. Future Alison threw the two duffel bags into the trunk, got into the car and maneuvered the heavy sports coupé to the entrance gate with pinpoint accuracy. Then she left the building and drove to her next destination.

**-0-**

**Friday, December 26th, 2008 – 09:35 p.m.**

**Los Angeles**

Jennifer Parker had watched the apartment from her parked car all day. Tom Novak and Zoe Kruger hadn't left it once. When she'd gotten wind that Kruger had flown to Los Angeles to meet with Novak over Christmas, she'd followed her. Little did she know that the two seemed to have more in common than just friendship. To her astonishment, she had noticed that they were apparently having an affair. So far she had assumed that Kruger was connected to Sonya Hawkins – although that was just a rumor, nothing official. Apparently, the rumors were wrong, or the relationship broken.

Maybe Sonya Hawkins' future job had something to do with it. It was expected that the newly elected president would appoint her National Security Advisor. A big career jump, but it was better not to have a homosexual relationship when you're working in the inner circle of the White House every day. America wasn't ready for that yet, even if it seemed ridiculous. Other countries were much more advanced in that respect. But maybe Jennifer could use that as leverage? After the panel discussion, she had been dying for an opportunity to get back at the two. The arrogance with which they had left her standing, had infuriated her.

Blackmailing wasn't exactly a sophisticated or elegant method. Actually, she despised it. But she was still looking for a way to get close to the three cyborg girls. They had made themselves scarce in the past weeks. Their last known action was the participation in the storming of the G.A.O.L. campus. Afterwards... nothing. Radio silence prevailed, and there had been no activity since then. Tom Novak was her best lead. Sooner or later he would guide her to them, she was sure about that.

Suddenly, Jennifer was blinded by lights in her rear view mirror and squinted. Another car was stopping behind her and switched off its lights. It looked like a Bentley. She frowned and wondered what the meaning of this was.

* * *

Tom Novak and Zoe Kruger lay in bed together in his apartment. It had been a while since a woman had entered these rooms but since Zoe wasn't like other women, she didn't mind the chaos and disorder in the bachelor's household. They'd spent a lovely Christmas together, most of it in bed, and Tom had to admit that he'd never been happier in his whole life. The only question was, what now?

"Do you think we're making a mistake?" he asked while letting his hand glide over her back.

Zoe, who had rested her head on his shoulder while putting her arm over his chest, looked up.

"Does it feel like a mistake to you?"

Tom smiled.

"No, it feels right and absolutely wonderful. But what will Sonya say? You have to tell her, of course."

"She'll be disappointed at first. But the truth is, she's always been married to her job. When I met her, she was lonely, didn't have any friends, spent nights alone in bars. She was at a low point, her career in a dead end. I helped her out of that low point. By now, her life has got a new meaning and she doesn't need me anymore."

"That sounds harsh. Are you sure about that? She will be hurt."

"Of course she will be hurt, Tom. But only for a short time. She is a much too rational and controlled person for making a scene. I'm sure we'll remain good friends, but in her new life as National Security Advisor is no place for a life companion or a spouse."

"Not even for a lover?"

"That has to be seen… but it won't be me."

"So… you want to further pursue this… relationship? I mean.. us… being together?"

She looked up at him again.

"Do you?"

Tom chuckled.

"I asked first."

"Well, yes, but… we'll be apart most of the time, except one of us moves either to Washington or to Los Angeles. And I can't move to Los Angeles because if Sonya leaves the C.S.I.S., I'll be her logical successor, and the C.S.I.S. headquarters are in Washington."

"And I can't leave L.A. This is my turf, this is where I know every single corner, where I have my connections and informants."

"Then we'll have to live with the distance between us, I guess."

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"How many people in the C.S.I.S. know that you're a cyborg?"

"Sonya, Mike, Marcus, the former team JUHCY of course… and I suppose Sonya will have to tell the new President. There is a chance that he will object to me becoming Sonya's successor. But I know she'll vouch for me."

"Even after she learns about us?"

"Sonya is many things and she has some character flaws but there's one thing she isn't: vindictive."

"I see."

"It's important that I remain in that position, you surely understand that, don't you?"

"I do. But what if people find out one day? People like Jennifer Parker?"

"Then we'll somehow deal with it. Now your turn."

"Hm?"

"For answering my question."

"Oh… yes, I mean, yeah, I like this. I like this very much and I'd love to be together with you, see what happens. I…"

He was interrupted by a loud knocking on the apartment door.

"Are you expecting someone?" Zoe asked.

"No. You?"

"Nope."

"Then who could that be?"

"Let me take a look, just to be safe."

"All right but put some clothes on first."

There was another knocking, louder this time. Zoe sneaked barefoot to the door after throwing on a bathrobe. She scanned the hall outside through the closed door and frowned.

"Who is it?" Tom asked in a low voice while he put on his pants.

"Alison," Zoe whispered back.

"Alison? But how?"

"I can hear you two," Future Alison's voice sounded from the other side of the door. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you slept with each other."

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Tom said, grabbed the door knob and opened the door. "Can you possibly be a little louder? I think there's a neighbor on the fourth floor who hasn't heard you yet."

Future Alison stepped inside, ignoring him.

"What are you doing here?" Zoe asked surprised as Tom closed the door after making sure nobody else was in the hall. "And what happened to your hair?"

"You like?" Future Alison asked with a smile and spun around on the spot. "I still have an aversion to blonde, hence the red."

"Shouldn't you be in Norway?" Tom asked.

"I was. But I flew back with Catherine and Isaak. I came here to deliver the gift."

"The gift?" Tom asked.

"Yes, for Zoe."

"For me?"

"It's not too late for a Christmas present, I hope?"

"What? No… but… you're not making any sense."

"Haven't you talked with John and the others on the phone yet?" Future Alison asked, seemingly surprised.

"Not since before Christmas," Zoe replied. "What are you…?"

"Ooooh, then I understand your confusion. I'm not the Alison from this time, I arrived in a time bubble from the year 2265 the day before yesterday."

"You what…?" Tom asked flabbergasted.

"I brought upgrades for Cameron, Emily and Alison. I would have expected them to inform you by now."

"We were… uh… busy over the holidays," Tom said and cleared his throat. "We had our cellphones switched off."

"Yeah, I can still smell that you were busy. Busy like rabbits, huh? But don't worry, I won't tell anyone or interfere. It's your business, not mine. Besides, it'll all sort itself out."

"It will?" Zoe asked.

"Sure, don't worry. But back to my gift. I also brought an upgrade for _you_, Zoe. And since I knew I'd find you here at Tom's place, I'm delivering it here."

"What?" Tom asked. "How did you know you would find her here? Nobody knows."

Future Alison rolled her eyes.

"Time traveler…?" she replied and looked at Tom expectantly, who stared back with a frown and then suddenly understood and groaned. "The penny dropped now, I presume."

"Yeah, yeah… it dropped."

"What do you mean with upgrade?" Zoe asked.

Future Alison explained it to her.

"Wow," Tom remarked. "So… she'll be like you, just without the nasty stuff?"

"You know what, Tom? Lauren asked me the same question. Identical wording. Maybe you two are mentally linked through subspace? Anyway... Yes, she'll have the same physical powers as Alison… _your_ Alison, that is, in _this_ time. Not _my_ powers, of course. But none of the so-called _'nasty stuff'_. Shall we proceed?"

Both Tom and Future Alison looked expectantly at Zoe.

"What?" she asked. "Oh… um… yeah, I guess. What shall I do?"

"Just open your mouth and swallow the nanobot gel I'm going to administer to you. Technology will do the rest."

"And there will be no side-effects?" Zoe asked carefully. "Just asking because you and your nanobots aren't exactly known for not having any unexpected results."

Future Alison sighed.

"I was wrong once in my life. Once! At the very beginning, when I didn't know this body yet. And I've never heard the end of it for over 250 years. Please don't start doing that as well now."

"Well, she has a point," Tom argued, "you turned the women in your team into unashamed, uninhibited nudists who struggle with wearing clothes at any given time now…"

"In less than one-hundred-and-fifty years, the rest of humanity will have caught up on that."

"… and thanks to you, they're only aging at a tenth of the speed the rest of us humans does. It's hard to forget that."

"Nobody ever seriously complained about not getting older or sick, not even Anne."

"Can we just get this over with?" Zoe asked, slightly annoyed. "If Cam and Emily got the upgrade, I should have it, too. Period."

She opened her mouth and Future Alison slightly leaned over to let the glob fall into her mouth. Tom grimaced.

"Do you realize how disgusting that looks?" he asked.

"I've had worse things in my mouth," Zoe replied and winked at him.

Tom's face turned crimson red.

"No details, please," Future Alison requested.

"So, what now?" Zoe asked.

"Now, you wait. Shouldn't take longer than a week."

"Oh… I think I can already feel them going to work."

"You can?" Tom asked. "How does it feel?"

"Like a billion microscopic worms wiggling inside me, I guess."

"Thanks, now I'll have to work on getting that image out of my head again."

"You're welcome, Tom."

"All right then," Future Alison said, "I'm going again. Have fun, you two."

"Wait!" Zoe said. "You didn't mention what you will be doing here. Is there anything I or the C.S.I.S. should know about?"

Future Alison thought for a moment. Then she shook her head.

"Nope."

She then hugged Tom and gave him a peck on the cheek. After that, she embraced Zoe.

"See you around. I love you two. Was good seeing you again, Tom. Has been a long time."

"Wait, what?" Tom asked.

But Alison was already out of the door again and when he looked into the hall, she was gone, as if she had vanished into thin air.

"What did she mean by that?" he asked.

"I guess it means that at some point in the next 250 or so years, you will die," Zoe replied dryly. "Relax, don't let it get to you. Come back to bed, I wasn't finished with you yet."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him with her.

"Maybe I should also fetch a dose of those nanobots," he remarked as he trotted behind her. "Now that I have a reason to… will be hard to keep up with you otherwise…"

"You'll manage," Zoe replied with a smile and let herself fall onto the bed. "You're doing fine."

* * *

Out in her car, Jennifer Parker suddenly jerked awake as someone was knocking on the side window of her car. Had she fallen asleep? She must have. The last thing she remembered was another car pulling up behind her, a Bentley... and then? Nothing, a blackout. She felt strange. Fuzzy… with a sudden realization she understood that she was drunk. Not just drunk but… completely rum-dum. She giggled. Rum-dum, that sounded funny.

A flashlight blinded her. She lowered the window and saw that it was a police officer, standing next to her car. In the side mirror, she saw a parked patrol car with flashing lights behind her. Colorful, pretty.

"License and registration, please," the officer said.

"Wha…? Oh… yeah… a shheccond…"

Jennifer reached for her glove compartment. She knocked over an empty bottle that fell into the passenger footwell. The officer shone his torch there and she saw an empty bottle of Jack Daniels and an empty bottle of Bacardi. What the hell? Where did those come from?

"Ma'am, would you please step out of your car please?"

"Issat… weally… nesshheeshharry?" Jennifer asked and somehow couldn't control her voice from sounding like she was totally blasted – which she was.

She giggled again and slowly, having difficulties to coordinate her movements, she opened the door of her car and stepped out onto the sidewalk, only to notice that she was barefoot. She was also wearing no pants and no underwear. Panicking, she tried to cover her exposed nether parts but had trouble to keep her balance without clinging to the car's door.

"Jeez, Jim," the officer said, "she reeks like a liquor store. Come and help me."

"I dinnnt drink… anythinggg…" Jennifer stated.

"Yeah, sure," the officer said while checking her license. "Miss... Jennifer Parker?"

"Yessh… in the fleshhhh…"

"Uh-huh… Jim, I think we need to take her back to the station. Here's the keys. Check the trunk and look if there's clothes in there."

The other officer caught the keys and opened the trunk. He found a large travel bag and pulled the zipper. Then he gasped.

"Holy mother of…"

"What's the matter, Jim?"

"Come here and look, you won't believe what's in here. You could equip half a squadron with these and blow up a building with that much explosives."

**-0-**

**Friday, December 26th, 2008 – 10:26 p.m.**

**Burbank**

Eric sat alone in the library and wrote on his dissertation when suddenly the doorbell rang. Who could that be? Frowning, he stood up and walked to the back door. Two weeks ago, he'd finally gotten rid of his crutches. He could now walk alone and without help. The doctors said it was a medical miracle. Never before had a person recovered so completely from Ewing's sarcoma in his stage. When it was clear that he would live and fully recover, he had decided to do a doctorate. He'd refused several offers from Cameron, Emily and Alison to help him financially, so he still needed the money from his job as the after-hour caretaker in the library to finance his history studies.

He arrived at the door and opened it.

"Sorry but we're closed and… Alison?"

"Hello Eric, can I come in?"

"Wha…? How? Aren't you supposed to be…? I mean… yeah, of course, come in, come in."

Eric moved out of the way and Alison entered. She waited until he locked the door behind her, then smiled and hugged him. Surprised at first, he quickly hugged her back.

"I can't wait for the explanation," he said. "By now nothing should surprise me when it comes to you or Emily or Cameron. But you always manage to achieve it anyway."

Alison looked around and smiled.

"It's been a while," she said. "The house was destroyed in the big quake of 2031 and never rebuilt."

"Wait, what? 2031? How can you know?"

She explained it to him. Eric listened carefully with growing fascination.

"So, there are two of you now?"

"Yes, my counterpart is still on the trip with John and the others."

"Wow. And I thought nothing could shock me anymore. 259 years old, huh? And you haven't changed a bit. By the way, I like the hair."

"Thank you… but I'm not gonna keep it like this. In fact, I'm gonna change my appearance completely tonight."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Can't tell you… but we probably won't meet again. Next time you see me, it will be the other Alison again. Just so you know. And I'd appreciate it if you don't mention to anyone that I was here tonight."

"Wow, okay… um, why are you here then? Just to say hello while you're in town?"

"In a manner of speaking. I missed you, my old friend."

"Missed me? What do you…? Oh… right, I probably won't be around anymore where you come from?"

She nodded.

"But don't worry. You'll have a long, happy and fulfilled life."

"Thank you for telling me. I guess I owe that to you and your nanobots."

"And your irrepressible will to live."

"So, um… you didn't bring me any donuts this time."

"Oooh… I'm sorry, I totally forgot about that."

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

"But don't tell the others, okay?"

"My lips are sealed."

"I'm actually not that fond of donuts… When we first met, when you were still Cameron, I let you in because I liked you. I enjoyed your company."

"And I've put you off more than once with my weird behavior."

Eric chuckled.

"Yeah… but that didn't change the fact that I really liked you. Somehow I knew that we were both outsiders. Me because I was in a wheel chair and you, well… for some other reason I didn't know about at the time. So… why are you here? Besides saying hello to an old friend?"

"I'm looking for old documents."

"Old documents?"

"Yes."

"What old documents?"

"Can't tell you, sorry. Is it okay if I take a look around?"

"Sure, make yourself at home. But don't break any locks again, okay?"

Future Alison chuckled.

"Don't worry, I don't make the same mistakes twice."

**-0-**

**Saturday, December 27th, 2008 – 12:05 a.m.**

**Downtown Los Angeles**

Future Alison parked the Bentley a block from the Zeira Corp tower and walked the rest of the way. The main entrance of the building was of course locked at this time. But when she was only five yards from the revolving door, it unlocked as if on a secret signal. She walked through and entered the foyer. Behind her, the door locked itself again. The night watchman looked up briefly, then seemed to have decided that absolutely nothing had happened and concentrated again on the television program on the monitor that was placed under the reception desk.

She walked past the guard and directly towards the elevator, stepped into it and entered the secret access code in the keypad, which would take her directly to the Babylon Labs deep down on the tenth sub level. There she left the elevator and headed straight for the heavily armored double door system to the lab wing. She ignored the surveillance cameras that followed her movements. Just as unspectacular as the entrance to the building, was the opening of the entrance to the security door system. Once she had passed the first door, it closed again, locking her inside.

The security devices were triggered, but strangely enough remained inactive. There was no poisonous gas, no heavy electrical discharges and no high energy laser beams that cut through the room or her body. The walls didn't close in on her either. After a moment, the second door opened in front of her, so that she could enter the laboratory wing without any further ado. Finally, she reached the door to John Henry's room. It was locked as well, but only for a second, then also this room unlocked itself as if by magic. Future Alison stepped inside.

"How did you do that?" John Henry asked as flabbergasted as his still somewhat simple ability for facial expressions allowed him to be. "I didn't deactivate any of the security systems. You should have been sliced to pieces and squashed."

"Well, you know what they say… The stronger mind dominates the weaker one."

"But how…?"

"No time for explanations, John Henry. I assume Catherine has announced my arrival?"

"Yes, but she couldn't tell me why you wanted to see me."

"I'm here because you're the only one I'm gonna have to fill in. Your permanent monitoring of cyberspace requires that I inform you about why I am here. It also means that you must never tell anyone about it, not even Catherine or John. Do you think you can do that?"

"You expect me to lie to them? Become your accomplice?"

"Yes, it's essential that you lie to them. In everyone's interest."

John Henry tilted his head.

"I'd need to know more about your mission before I could make a final decision."

"I expected that."

And she gave him a short overview about what she was there for.

"Are you serious?" John Henry finally asked.

"Dead serious."

"But what you said, is considered impossible."

"If certain conditions are met, it's possible. I'm not the only one who knows this, but I'm the only one who can counteract the resulting complications and avoid greater damage to our universe."

"All right then, you have my word that I won't tell anyone about it. What else do you need me to do?"

"I'll be here for some time, and will be running a tech company named F.E.S., Future Energy Solutions. I'll be the owner of this company under an alias that has been created by the other Future Alison who was here a while ago."

"What will this alias be?"

Future Alison held up her new driving license for John Henry to read. His expression showed astonishment.

"But… this woman looks completely different than you. I mean, yes, there is still a certain small resemblance but… nobody will recognize you."

"That's the idea," she replied, "my undercover identity must be so perfect that even John or the other Alison won't recognize me, not even when they talk to me face to face. You will be the only one who'll know about my cover identity."

"But won't Alison, Cam, Emily or Zoe be able to scan you and realize you're not human…?"

"No, they won't. Because as a result of the upgrades I gave them, they will only perceive me as a human being, not as a cyborg. It wasn't easy for me to cheat them like that, but it had to be done. It was also the reason why I had to leave them as quickly as possible before the upgrades would take effect."

"So, you manipulated their sensors?"

"Yes, but only as far as it concerns them recognizing, or rather not recognizing _me_ anymore. Everything else will be unaffected."

"But what about Triple-Eights and other cyborgs?"

"Their scanners aren't sophisticated enough to tell a human from a TOL-900, especially not _this_ TOL-900. They won't be a problem."

"Why letting me in on it?"

"As I said, you're observing cyberspace, you work for the C.S.I.S., and since I'll have to be active in cyberspace as well, with activities that will certainly call your attention, I need you to look away. Whenever you detect suspicious activity that is connected to me or my company, I want you to ignore it and tell nobody about it – no matter what the activity is and who it comes from. You have to trust me on this."

"Of course I trust you. But is there a way I can contact you, just in case I don't understand something or need to reassure myself?"

Future Alison smiled.

"Yes, of course. I'll leave my desktop PC in my new house open for you. But try to contact me not too often."

"New house? Where is it?"

"Bel Air. I'll send you an e-mail later, then you'll know the IP of my PC."

"Bel Air, huh? An exclusive neighborhood?"

"Yes, hillside lot. The construction was finished four months ago."

"And your company, F.E.S.?"

"It's located in Chatsworth."

"Quite a distance. You'll be spending much time in your car with rush hour traffic and all."

"Yes, but my cover identity requires me to uphold a certain façade. The house is part of it. I suppose I don't have to stress that all what we have talked about in the last couple of minutes, needs to stay between us."

"You can rely on me," John Henry said.

"Thank you. I'll send you requests for more driving licenses and passports in the following days, as I'm going to build a team around me. And because I need an excuse for Catherine why I've been here tonight... do you by any chance have a piece of paper and a pen? I'd like to write Alistair a short letter and deposit it in his office."

"Yes, of course," John Henry replied and pulled both from a drawer in his desk, handing it over to her.

She sat down, wrote something he couldn't read, folded the piece of paper and held it up.

"You're gonna like this," she said and winked at him, then stood up and gave him a peck on the cheek. "See you some time, John Henry."

"See you, Alison. Hopefully soon."

**-0-**

**Saturday, December 27th, 2008 – 01:32 a.m.**

**Redondo Beach**

The house wasn't difficult to find. It was the most run down in the entire street. Actually, this was not a bad residential area, but the financial crisis began to leave its mark here as well. In front of many houses there was a "For Sale" sign, and with some of them you could see that front gardens and lawns were being neglected.

Future Alison parked the Bentley and got out. She looked around. Everything was peaceful and quiet at this time of night. Most people were asleep, only in one house opposite of her destination, a family was tossing and turning, apparently being plagued by worries. Alison zoomed in to their door and saw a handcrafted sign that read _"The Tanner family"_. It wasn't exactly the best of times for many home owners, especially if they had financed their houses with the help of bad loans, whose installments they could no longer pay.

Bambi Dawson, however, was still wide awake in the house on the opposite side of the street. Her Asian followers were just returning from work to log in and watch her webcam show. In good nights, she'd make about three hundred dollars, which at the end of the month turned out to be more than enough to keep a single girl afloat. All she needed for that, was a laptop, an HD webcam, and a remote-controlled vibrator that sent shockwaves through her vagina whenever somebody gave her a tip. Her naturally flowing juices were very popular with her clients. She was just in the middle of another orgasm when suddenly her laptop powered down.

"What the…?" she muttered, having difficulties to calm down during her climax.

She stood up from her bed and walked over to the table she's placed the portable computer on. It was dead.

"Come on!" she said angrily and began slapping the thing.

"Breaking the computer won't help," a female voice said from behind her. "Hello, Bambi. Long time no see."

Bambi Dawson whirled around. There was another woman standing in the doorframe of her bedroom door. A tall and very beautiful redhead.

"What the…? Who the fuck are you!?" she asked. "And what are you doing in my house?"

"Ah… of course, you don't know me anymore, your memories were suppressed."

Future Alison pointed her right index finger at her.

"Remember…" she said theatrically and grinned.

"Get out of here! I'll call the pol… the po… the…"

Bambi's eyes glazed over, then she trembled for a second and shook her head, as if to clear her mind.

"What the fuck?" She looked at Future Alison again. "YOU! What have you… oh my God. I'm a woman! I'm a fucking woman! You turned me into a webcam slut! I'LL KILL YOU!"

Dawson attempted to attack Future Alison but was repelled by what seemed to be an invisible force field.

"Don't hurt yourself, Dawson, I'm from the year 2265. This body is more advanced and powerful than anything you have ever experienced or will ever experience. I could snuff Skynet out like a candle without even getting close to it. I've restored your memories because I need someone nobody knows, and nobody will miss. From now on, you will help me and be my assistant."

Before Dawson could answer, she was overcome by a strange calmness and serenity. She was a woman? So what if she was? At least she was pretty. And this Alison from the future suddenly made complete sense with her words. Resistance was futile. She realized that she had just been saved from a terrible fate. Without her intervention, Bambi Dawson would have remained an object of lust for horny men for decades, if not centuries, because she could not age.

"There, that's better," Future Alison said, noting the change in Dawson's demeanor. "Just so you know, my chemical messengers have also improved. They now create true loyalty instead of devoted slavery. You are loyal to me, aren't you?"

Dawson smiled.

"Yes, of course, Alison. I'm so thankful that you're getting me out of here. I'll do anything for you, anything! But what if somebody knows me from the webcam sessions? Nobody will miss me, but some men might nevertheless recognize me."

"Oh, you're no longer going to look like that, my dear. Come here."

The naked girl stepped up to her, and Future Alison put her hand on her shoulder. Then Bambi Dawson suddenly felt tingly everywhere as she felt her body beginning to change. She became taller and more feminine, no longer a petite twenty-year-old girl of 5'1" or 1.55 meters in height and cup size A, but an adult woman in her late twenties who now measured 5'9" or 1.79 meters and featured cup size C. Her face became rounder and softer, her eye color changed from brown to blue, but she remained a brunette with long hair falling down to her hips. She no longer looked perky and girlish, but sober and serene, like an adult woman who even in her nudity was surrounded by an aura of sincerity. A breathtaking beauty at eye level with Alison, only with a more serious charisma. When you saw her, the term "executive secretary" immediately came to mind.

"You're no longer Bambi Dawson," Future Alison said as the transformed woman looked at herself in awe in the mirror, "your name will from now on be Bethany Daniels."

She handed her a driving license, another fabrication of the older Future Alison. Bethany Daniels took it, looking at it in surprise.

"You have this all figured out, haven't you?"

"Of course, good preparation is everything. Are you ready to go? Don't bother getting dressed, your clothes won't fit you anymore. You'll get a whole new wardrobe when we get to our new home."

Bethany looked around and sighed.

"Yes… I'm ready to go with you. Nothing keeps me here anymore. But what about the money?"

"What money?"

Instead of answering her, Bethany walked over to her bed, lifted the mattress and pulled out a plastic bag full of cash.

"Twenty thousand," she said, "I was saving it for buying a car."

"That'll be no longer necessary, as our new home comes with several cars you can pick from. I'll have a better idea what to do with it instead. Do you have a pen and paper?"

* * *

Bethany was sitting in the passenger seat of the Bentley, not worried in the slightest about being totally naked and leaving everything she owned behind. She trusted Alison completely, and she was happy to get out of her old life and switch to a new one. Finally, Bethany Daniels, formerly known as Captain Michael Dawson, resistance fighter and traitor to humanity, felt that she now had a chance to make amends for her crimes. She would serve Future Alison and remain absolutely loyal to her - not because someone or something forced her to, but because she seriously wanted to. Or at least that was what she honestly believed.

Moments later, Future Alison returned to the car and took place in the driver's seat.

"I put a hundred thousand of my own money in the bag as well," she reported, "and I put in a letter saying that the money is a gift from an anonymous benefactor because of Christmas."

"You're a good person," Bethany said, "the Tanners are a nice family, they never looked down on me, instead greeted me every day despite my slutty behavior, but the financial crisis hit them hard. The money will surely help them to start all over."

"I wish I could help them all but unfortunately, I can only do so much without disturbing the predetermined course of time."

Bethany frowned, wondering what she had meant with that, but decided not to ask. This Alison from the future would explain everything to her when the time was right, she was sure about that.

**-0-**

**Saturday, December 27th, 2008 – 02:45 a.m.**

**Bel Air**

They approached the address in Stradella Road that her older self had given her, and Future Alison stopped in front of a gate, which was made out of black stone, polished so smoothly that it reflected the surroundings like a mirror. A ten feet high white wall stretched to the left and right of the gate, in front of which a lush hedge was growing. She reached for the remote, pointed it at the entrance and pressed the button. Quietly, the massive gate of natural stone sank into the ground.

"Classy touch," Bethany commented. "Is this house new?"

"Yes, we'll be the first residents."

"Nice."

They drove into a small front yard and saw that to their right a paved driveway led down to an underground car park. Behind them the gate rose up again, shielding them from view from the street. The lights went on in the front yard and they could see that the car stood on large concrete slabs, the extra-wide joints of which were neatly covered with green grass. Directly in front of them was the main entrance to the house, which was a very modern, geometric construction with lots of glass and natural stone. It reminded Future Alison of Kenneth Fletcher's house in the Hollywood Hills, but this one was much larger and had two levels above ground and one underground.

In front of them, a massive black stone cuboid stood in a small, rectangular pond, illuminated by blue LED lights and with water running down its sides. The water was pumped up from the small pond underneath, and the main entrance to the house could be reached by crossing a marble slab walkway across said pond. Just like the cuboid, the water was also illuminated blue from underneath.

"Ni-ice," Bethany commented. "How much did this cost?"

"According to the documents I've been given, it was offered on the market for 44 million dollars. My older self then negotiated it down to 32 million. It's not like the real estate market is booming right now."

"Thirty-two million?" Bethany asked flabbergasted. "An old woman has to knit for a long time for that."

"I suppose so. But the house is the most modern of the modern. The very latest security systems, high tech down to the smallest detail. In almost every room there are televisions, which also serve as monitors for video calls inside the house. A central mainframe controls all this on voice command. And some of the rooms only open with fingerprint scans. I had time to study the portfolio."

They drove down the driveway to their right, which after a few yards made a sharp left turn and ended in front of a closed garage door made of the same high-gloss stone as the entrance door. Future Alison operated the remote again and the gate also sank into the ground. As they entered the underground carpark, the lights went on inside.

"Wow," Bethany exclaimed. "And you said I can choose from those? Your older self has taste!"

In a large room with shiny, dark grey floor tiles stood a red Ferrari 612 Scaglietti, a dark blue Aston Martin DB9 Volante, a black Mercedes G 55 AMG, a yellow Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder, and a lilac Audi R8 V10. They were draped like exhibits in a museum, and theoretically the small hall would have offered space for twice as many cars. It was less a garage than a car showroom.

"I have to pass as a young, wealthy owner of a start-up company," explained Future Alison. "To do this, I have to cultivate a luxurious but tasteful lifestyle in order to convince. Not exaggeratedly boastful or bragging, but reservedly stylish. These cars reflect that. They stand out but aren't too exclusive for Los Angeles. My camouflage must be perfect down to the last detail."

"I'm all game," Bethany replied, "but what exactly will my job be?"

"As I already said, you'll be my assistant, my secretary, if you will. I'll be posing as a rich businesswoman and you'll manage and organize my life. Rich business people always have employees who shield them and filter their contacts and appointments for them. In the coming days, we will recruit even more personnel: housemaids, a cook and a gardener, who'll also work as a janitor. They'll live here as well."

"Any idea of where to get them?"

"I have a hunch that there are people in Skid Row who have a higher vocation than living in tents on the sidewalk and consuming drugs. Like with you, no one will miss them when they disappear."

She parked the Bentley next to the Ferrari, then they got out and looked around. A stairwell was leading up into the house, and through an open door and a large glass wall, they could see a plush home cinema and an exercise room next to the garage/showroom.

"The house has been partially built on concrete pillars," Future Alison explained while they walked up the stairs, "the slope would have been too steep otherwise. This way, the terrace and the pool above could be extended outwards, and we're perfectly protected from view from all sides. The house is luxurious, spacious and tasteful, but not ostentatious or obscenely huge."

"Neat. How big is this place anyway?"

"14,132 square feet of living space on one acre of land. Three levels, seven bedrooms, ten bathrooms. It contains a home cinema for twelve people, a fitness room, a wine cellar, two kitchens, several fireplaces, a bar, a terrace with infinity pool and lots of open outside walls, providing an unobstructed view over Los Angeles. Everything is completely furnished and decorated. Only the fridge has to be filled."

They reached the first level and entered a large living room which was open towards the terrace. The glass panes could be lowered into the ground, just like the gate and the garage door. Outside, they could see the sparkling lights of Los Angeles in the distance.

"I always wondered how it would be like to live here in the hills," Bethany remarked. "Can I choose my own room?"

"Sure, as long as it's not the master suite…"

"But you don't need any sleep."

"No, I don't. But I can go into a simulated sleep mode. As I said, I have to maintain my camouflage perfectly, down to the tiniest detail, which will include a healthy eight ours in bed every night. Nobody must ever even suspect that I'm anything else than human, and doing more work than a human could do, would certainly arouse suspicion sooner or later."

"But won't John and the others recognize you?"

"Ah… now that you mention it, there's one more thing I have to do before we start with our new lives."

Future Alison also took off her clothes and then, before Bethany's eyes, her body changed. At first, her skin got darker and darker until it was as dark brown as Terissa Dyson's. Then her hair receded into her head until it was very short and curly. Her eyes became pitch black and her nose flattened a bit, her facial features becoming those of an African-American woman. Then her breasts grew half a cup size and her hips became a little wider. Her height remained the same. In less than a minute, the Caucasian beauty who was Alison had turned into an African-American beauty. There was still a tiny resemblance because her endoskeleton hadn't changed its shape, but without knowing who you were looking at, it was impossible to tell that the person standing in front of you was actually Alison.

Bethany looked at her flabbergasted with an open mouth.

"Wow," she exclaimed again.

"My name is no longer Alison," she said, and her voice sounded differently, deeper than before, and it had an East coast accent. "My name is Kimberly Jackson. You are to call me Miss Jackson. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Jackson, I understand completely."

"Good, now let's see if some of the clothes in my new wardrobe will fit you. We cannot let you run around naked all the time, can we?"

**-0-**

**Monday, December 29th, 2008 – 08:03 a.m.**

**Downtown Los Angeles**

Alistair Norbury returned to his workplace with a grim face. The vacation in Hawaii had been terrific. He and Yani had had a lot of fun - and even more sex - but as it is, all good things come to an end at some point. Yani had gone somewhere on her next mission, which of course she wasn't allowed to tell him about, and he'd spent the night from Sunday to Monday alone in his bed, missing her. In addition, he had to face Catherine Weaver today, and he'd probably have to listen to a massive telling-off for the mess he had caused with the wrongly sent e-mail.

As a result, he was in a bad mood and grumpy, and when his colleagues asked him how the vacation had been and whether he was now well rested, Alistair answered grouchily and monosyllabic. He entered his office and let himself fall into his desk chair, booting his workstation. Then his eyes fell on a white envelope lying on his keyboard with his handwritten name on it. He frowned and opened it, suspecting nothing good. He flew over the handwritten lines, then suddenly his eyes widened, and a big grin slowly crept onto his face.

"THAT'S IT!" he shouted out loudly. "WHY HAVEN'T I SEEN THAT BEFORE!?"

He jumped up, ran out of his office, past his colleagues who looked at him with puzzled faces, and sprinted down the hallway until he had reached John Henry's door. He burst into the room, almost running into Catherine.

"I've got it!" he exclaimed. "My God, Catherine, I've got it!"

"Alistair," Catherine replied unfazed, "I was just on my way to your office, only stopping by to say hello to John Henry. Why are you so beside yourself?"

"I finally know how to do it!"

"To do what?" she asked with a frown. "You better start making sense, Alistair."

"I know how to transfer John Henry's consciousness onto a Triple-Eight chip."

**0-0-0**

**_Author's notes:_**

**_\- Well, this was a rather short chapter again for a change :-)_**

**_\- If you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it, please leave a comment or a review :-) _**

**_\- Next stop will be St. Petersburg._**


	8. Saint Petersburg

**_CHAPTER 8: "SAINT PETERSBURG"_**

* * *

**_Monday, December 29th, 2008 – 11:55 p.m._**

**_Day 40 of our voyage_**

_Things are back to normal._

_Derek teased Cameron and Emily when they complained that they felt the changes they're undergoing in their "bones". Apparently, the transformation is straining their physiology, and their movements are somewhat limited. Or at least they were, because this phase is now over. Apparently, the transition from a nuclear power cell to a mini fusion reactor had led to a slowdown in reaction times, resulting in slower movement and forcing them to cling to things in order to keep their balance, especially in rough seas. Since this looked kind of funny, Derek had speculated loudly about whether cyborgs could have a hangover, and if they could throw up or not, indirectly comparing them to horses._

_Of course, Emily and Cam wouldn't stand for that. They secretly broke into Derek and Jesse's suite and replaced Derek's toothpaste with foot creme. They also filled the remains of Alison's hair dye into his shampoo, so Derek has been walking around with slightly orange hair. He hasn't exchanged a word with them in two days._

_We're currently in the Baltic Sea and have entered the Gulf of Finland. Tomorrow morning, we'll reach Saint Petersburg in Russia. The city is located in a bay around the mouth of the Neva River. Anne was busy the last days working out a sightseeing program for all of us. Obviously she's a big fan of the city and visited it several times during her time with the CIA, when it was still called Leningrad. She's been increasing her role as a tourist guide since Isaak left - which is strange, since she had always criticized him for giving lectures in the style of a tour guide._

_We received news that Jennifer Parker, the author of critical articles and books on artificial intelligence, was arrested in Los Angeles. Apparently, a routine police check escalated to such an extent that she will now be charged with drunk driving, illegal possession of weapons, and planning a terrorist attack. We spoke on the phone with Steve Goldman and he told us that she had been picked up just outside Tom Novak's apartment. Did she want to take revenge for the fact that Tom and Zoe turned her down after the panel discussion in New York the other day? Or had she hoped that Tom might lead her to us? She must be a really disturbed person with a lot of mental problems._

_We also received news that Alistair has finally found a way to move - or rather copy - John Henry's consciousness onto a Triple Eight chip. That's brilliant, because soon John Henry will be able to live with Catherine, Isaak and little Savannah, not only temporarily like now, but forever and completely independent from his server farm at Zeira Corp. Their problem with finding a new nanny should be solved with that. The last one had been killed by a Terminator, which had not exactly simplified the search for a replacement._

_Anyway, the Christmas mood is definitely gone. It's business as usual and we're now looking forward to spending New Year's Eve on board the Rising Star._

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 30th, 2008 – 08:01 a.m.**

**Saint Petersburg, Russia**

"They're here," said the tall, bald man with a full beard.

"Are you sure, Anatoli?" another man, equally tall but shaved and with full, blonde hair, asked.

"Yes, Sergei, the _Rising Star _moored at the cruise terminal last night."

"It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Our friends in Portugal should already have intercepted them in Lisbon. But they only refueled and didn't go ashore. They changed their route and skipped Southampton as well, where more of us were waiting for them. Do you think that was a coincidence?"

"Our contacts tell us they visited Weaver's family in Scotland. Maybe it was a family emergency of some kind. It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Or maybe they're playing cat and mouse with us. Are you willing to take that risk?"

The blonde man called Sergei thought for a moment, chewing on this nail.

"No," he then replied. "Have them watched. We need to know where they go and what they do. And we need as many people here as possible. Inform Number One and then send out a message to everyone in the area, tell them we'll meet at the old factory."

"I will do so immediately."

"And Anatoli?"

"Yes, Sergei?"

"Make sure that none of our friends are being spotted by them. Keep your distance."

"Of course, Sergei."

"_This could be it,"_ Sergei thought. _"They have finally found us. Let's hope Number One can take them out."_

**-0-**

**08:46 a.m.**

"Let's see," Anne said, leaning over a city map of Saint Petersburg on the table after the remains of the breakfast had been carried away, "of course there's the Winter Palace with the Hermitage Museum - an absolute must. Then there's the Catherine Palace and the Stroganov Palace, also Peterhof Palace, an absolute must as well because it was built by Peter the Great as a direct response to the Palace of Versailles… and then naturally the island of Kronstadt, which we already passed on our way into the bay when we went through the dam. A city tour and a boat tour through the canals is also a must... Then there's…"

"We need to go shopping," Jody said.

Everyone looked at her.

"Shopping?" Anne asked flabbergasted. "You've been doing nothing but since we left L.A."

"We didn't bring enough warm clothes," Lauren pointed out. "And since we'll spend at least a couple more weeks in the cold…"

"You knew all that before," Anne said a little unnerved, "why didn't you think about packing more warm clothes?"

"Have you ever tried shopping for warm clothes in Los Angeles?" Sydney asked. "Apart from skiing outfit, I mean? You won't get anything that actually looks stylish."

"Why didn't you buy warm clothes in Ålesund?"

"Because we were busy with Christmas shopping and then with sending Catherine and the others on their way," Allie pointed out. "We have enough warm socks, but we need warm pantyhose, warm sweaters, warm boots, fur hats, beanies, gloves..."

"Besides, Russia is the ideal spot to buy warm clothes," Savannah added. "If a country knows how to deal with the cold, then it's Russia. We could take the bus and then the Metro to the big Galeria shopping mall and…"

"Wait, wait, wait…" Anne said. "You are in Saint Petersburg, one of the most culturally interesting cities in the world, filled with UNESCO World Heritage Sites, one of the ten most popular tourist destinations in the world when it comes to art and architecture, and you have researched where to go shopping?"

"Well… yes," Lauren replied. "We knew you'd do the boring stuff, so we did _that_."

Anne closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'm on the ship of fools among philistines," she muttered under her breath.

"I think we can do both," John said in an attempt to mediate. "I'm curious about all the sights but I don't have enough warm clothes as well. We'll be walking around a lot outside, and it's way below zero."

"John's right," Sarah added, "we all didn't bring enough warm clothes, we all figured we'd buy them on the way."

"I brought enough warm clothes," Anne argued. "It's not an art form. You can do that before a journey, you know…"

"I guess you're on your own, Anne," Derek said. "We'll all be happy to visit all the palaces and museums and whatever there is, but we need to do it in the right attire. Otherwise we'd be freezing our butts off."

Anne seemed to have resigned herself.

"Fine," she said, "Fine. I guess the majority decides. But we have only four days in one of the most interesting and impressive cities in the world and tomorrow is New Year's Eve and…"

"We know all that," Charley said, "but we have four days. That's more than almost all other tourist groups have to explore the city. Relax, Anne, we'll be able to pull your program through. We're half a day ahead of schedule, so half a day spent with shopping won't hurt."

**-0-**

The Galeria was a big shopping and entertainment center, located in the center of St Petersburg at the juncture of two of the city's major avenues - Nevsky and Ligovsky Prospect. There were more than three hundred shops, twenty-eight restaurants and cafes, and eleven cinema screens in the five-floor center. The two underground levels contained a parking garage with enough space for 1,200 cars.

As suggested by Savannah, the team took a bus to the Metro station closest to the cruise ship terminal where the Rising Star had moored, and then the train to the station Vosstaniya Square.

"They really made an effort designing those underground Metro stations," Sydney remarked as they walked out on the busy square with lots of traffic and pedestrians. "The platforms look like small palaces or museums, with their marble columns, the artfully designed lamps and chandeliers, and all the sculpture works. And this vestibule here reminds me of a temple or a church."

"Soviet Era architecture," Anne said, who seemed to have taken over from Isaak as the unofficial tour guide, even if she had criticized him for that. "The communists probably wanted to offer the common people some of the splendor that only the nobility used to have. The subway in Moscow is even more impressive in this respect."

"I still don't understand how all the world's major metropolises have a functioning subway system or other public transport, except Los Angeles," Derek said. "Instead, we have congested highways with five lanes per direction."

"That's a long story," Anne replied. "Maybe I tell it to you someday."

"Thanks, professor."

"We need to go down there," Cameron said and pointed down one of the wide boulevards, "the shopping mall is just about a hundred meters away. Let's try to stick together, the traffic seems to be kinda chaotic. There don't seem to be any rules."

"Oh, they have traffic rules," Charley pointed out, "they only choose to ignore them."

"But why?" Emily asked.

"This seems inefficient and risky," Alison added.

Charley shrugged.

"Mentality, I guess."

"This is nothing, though," Anne stated. "Wait until we reach India."

Although Cameron, Emily and Alison were not satisfied with the answer, they refrained from pursuing it. The group of eighteen crossed the road and headed for the Galeria. The city was still decorated for Christmas, but the snow on the edge of the streets and sidewalks looked dirty. It was freezing cold and everyone was thankful when they finally entered the large shopping center.

"This looks just like one of ours," Lauren remarked, "only with weird writing everywhere."

"Cyrillic alphabet," Anne said with a smirk, "can't you speak Russian?"

"Not everyone spent fifty years with the CIA," Sarah reminded her. "And I'm sure that Alison, Emily and Cam are perfect in Russian."

The three mentioned ones nodded.

"We are," they confirmed in a chorus, then looked at each other and giggled.

"What's so funny?" Derek asked.

"It's been a while since we talked in synchrony," Alison explained.

* * *

While they were walking through the Galeria, entering and leaving several shops, buying lots of warm clothes, John noticed that many people openly stared at Alison. Not only the men, like usual, but also women and even teenagers. They were pointing at her and then whispering with each other.

"Is it me or is Alison drawing more attention than normally?" Allie asked, taking the words out of John's mouth.

"Yeah, I noticed as well," Sarah confirmed. "Something's going on."

Suddenly, a group of teenage girls approached them and shyly asked Alison a question, holding out a calendar of 2009 – with a picture of Alison on the front.

"What do they want?" Danny asked.

"They want an autograph from me," Alison replied astonished.

"Well, give it to them then," Anne said. "I didn't know you were a celebrity in Russia."

"Neither did I."

Alison scribbled something barely readable on the calendar, using the opportunity to browse through it for a moment. They noticed that every month had a different picture of her, taken around cities, landscapes or in what looked like a studio. She then handed the calendar back to the group of girls who giggled excitedly and ran away.

"Uh-oh," Kevin said and pointed down the hall, "I think I know why Alison is drawing so much attention."

They followed his gaze and saw a giant poster, at least five by five meters in size, hanging from the glass ceiling of the shopping center. The poster depicted a smiling woman who was looking exactly like Alison, advertising a fashion store chain. Derek groaned and dropped his shoulders.

"Please no," he said in a desperate tone, rubbing his eyes, "please not another one..."

"Looks more like that's the woman Alison's body was designed after," Emily replied. "At least the upper half looks completely identical. You can't see more of her body on that poster."

"Apparently, her name is Olga," Alison stated. "That's how the girls called me. She seems to be a famous fashion model in Russia."

"You better put on your sunglasses," Sarah suggested, "we don't want to draw any unnecessary attention. And better also wear one of the beanies you bought."

"Right," Alison agreed and did as suggested.

"Open your hair and stuff it into the beanie," John added. "With the braid, you look exactly like the woman on the poster."

Alison did that as well.

"Now, let's find a place where we can have lunch and talk," Derek said. "Out here, it's like being in a goldfish bowl."

**-0-**

"It's really them, isn't it?" Sergei asked from the walkway two floors above. "Sarah and John Connor."

"Yes," Anatoli replied, "and the girl we know as Cameron Phillips. But there seem to be two of them, our information seems to be incomplete."

"But what have they got to do with Olga Korobitsyna? And who are the other ones? It's a fairly large group."

"Either it's all camouflage, or their team is larger than we thought. Olga could be their contact here in Saint Petersburg."

"What shall we do?"

"We need to inform Number One. She'll know what to do."

**-0-**

"Didn't you say that Alison's looks weren't based on any human?" Sarah asked reproachfully as she looked at Savannah and Allie.

They sat in a small restaurant that offered Russian cuisine and had pushed a few tables together, so they could sit down as a group. Cameron wasn't with them. She was away to find out more about that Olga model.

"That's what we thought," Savannah replied. "We assumed it because she looks like no woman anyone of us had ever seen before, and normally Skynet shaped all its Terminators after captured resistance fighters."

"Well, I guess you were wrong then."

"Skynet must have found some pictures of this Olga and decided she was a good role model for a seductive female Terminator," Allie added. "Maybe one of the captured resistance fighters carried pictures of her, I don't know. It was common practice to have such pictures with you, they gave you comfort when you lay in the trenches at night. Or maybe one of the Grays delivered pictures of her. I guess we'll never know for sure."

"We can only speculate about it but it's one more reason why the world mustn't know how we look like," Emily replied. "Also in the interest of this Olga. People might mix her up with Alison and that could get her into trouble. Well, at least until she grows too old to be mixed up with her."

"So… which human have _you_ been designed after then?" Derek asked with a smirk, looking at Emily.

She returned his gaze and stuck out her tongue in reply.

"It's safe to assume that somewhere out there is also a girl that looks like Emily," Anne stated. "Only she doesn't seem to be quite as famous."

* * *

When Cameron finally returned, everyone had already ordered and eaten their lunch.

"We would have waited for you," John said apologetically as she sat down next to him, "but we didn't know how long you would need, so..."

"It's okay, John," Cameron replied, kissing him on the cheek, "as you know, I don't actually _need_ that much to eat… yet."

"Yeah, that'll probably change a bit when you also carry those nanobots in your tissue," Alison commented. "They'll use up some calories."

"So, what have you found out?" Sarah asked, not wanting to discuss eating habits right now.

"Her name is Olga Korobitsyna. She's twenty-five years old, born in Saint Petersburg and still living here. She started out as a nude model for several international pay websites when she was eighteen years old, and then switched to working as a fitness and fashion model. She has contracts with two different European sportswear manufacturers, a Russian chain of fashion boutiques and two producers of fitness drinks and dietary supplements. Here, I printed out a few pictures."

Cameron handed around hardcopies from a color printer, and one after the other looked at the portraits. The resemblance was amazing. From her head to her toes, she looked like Alison's twin sister.

"Her parents came to Saint Petersburg from Siberia," Cameron continued, "she has a younger sister, Darya, who's also started modelling. Olga is single but loves animals – she had two rabbits and currently owns a Chihuahua named Gucci. She is famous for her slender, sporty figure, her beautiful face and her large, natural breasts. Although she's quite famous in Russia and parts of Eastern Europe, she's virtually unknown in America."

"That would explain why nobody we know has recognized Alison," John said nodding. "How did you find out so much about her?"

"I went to a computer store and used one of their demo PC's. A simple Google search through Russian websites brought lots of results, so I printed some out."

"Maybe I should stay aboard through our stay," Alison said. "It's not good when people think they recognize Olga in me wherever I go."

"Nonsense," John contradicted her. "Since you put on your sunglasses and the beanie, nobody has recognized you anymore."

"Nevertheless, the shopping's done and we had lunch," Derek said, "it's time we go back on board, change clothes and then do what all tourists do."

Everyone agreed that was a good idea. They paid, got up and left the Galeria, heading for the Metro station again. Half an hour later, they were back aboard the _Rising Star_.

**-0-**

**02:15 p.m.**

Olga Korobitsyna returned to her apartment after spending the first half of the day at the gym. At half past two, a friend of hers, a photographer, would pick her up for a photo shoot. Olga didn't have her own car, it just didn't make sense because she was rarely at home anymore. She spent most of her time traveling to photo shootings all over Europe and Asia. Like every year, however, she had spent Christmas with her family and would now stay in Saint Petersburg for a few weeks.

There was just enough time to change. It would be a routine job - new advertising posters for the fashion store chain she was under contract to. She ran up the stairs to the 4th floor of the stylish old building in the heart of Saint Petersburg and greeted one of her neighbors in the hallway when passing him by. He greeted her back with a friendly smile. She was very popular with everyone because, despite her moderate fame, she had remained down-to-earth and not lost her touch to the real world. Despite all the glamour she was facing every day, Olga had remained a normal girl, without any bitchiness or airs and graces.

She opened the door to her apartment and entered. It was dark inside because the curtains were still closed. She switched on the light and looked around for her doggie.

"Gucci?" she asked. "Where are you? Come here, Gucci…"

Frowning, she put her keys and her bag down and began searching the apartment.

"Gucci, where are you? I'm back… aren't you happy to see me?"

She reached her bedroom, and there the little Chihuahua lay on the bed, apparently asleep. Too much asleep. Olga sat down on the edge of the bed and laid her hand on the body of her pet. He was warm, breathed regularly, and she could feel his heartbeat. The last time she'd seen him like this, Gucci lay on the operating table at the vet's under general anesthesia to have him neutered. Had somebody stunned her dog? But who? And why?

Before she could further contemplate it, she felt a pinprick at her neck… and then everything went dark.

* * *

Nicolas Verano stopped in front of Olga's apartment block to pick her up and frowned. There was a white van parked in front of it from a welfare organization, which brought disabled children to school and picked them up again. But to his knowledge, there were no disabled children living in Olga's apartment complex. He got out of his car to ring Olga's doorbell when suddenly two men left the house entrance. One of them, a bald one with a full beard, was carrying a woman over his shoulder. And it was Olga!

"HEY!" the photographer shouted. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE?"

The man who wasn't carrying Olga, a tall blond one, pulled out a gun with a silencer and fired in Nicolas's direction. However, he missed him by miles, it seemed to have only been a warning shot. He quickly entered his car again, reached for his camera with trembling hands and recorded how the two men threw Olga in the back of the van, shooting once more at him before he drove off, damaging his windshield on the passenger side. For a moment, he thought about following them but who knew what the kidnappers were capable of? So, he decided to do the sensible thing instead and called the police with his cellphone.

**-0-**

**07:25 p.m.**

The Connor team had spent the rest of the day on a boat tour through the canals of Saint Petersburg and on the river Neva. Alison had left her beanie and sunglasses on. Together with the thick clothing, she hadn't been confused with Olga Korobitsyna a second time. Boat tours of this kind always offered an interesting view of a city that one couldn't get otherwise. In earlier times, rivers and canals were what roads and highways are today. Therefore, many of the beautiful palaces and buildings of Saint Petersburg were built directly by the water. It was decided to have dinner on board the Rising Star instead of going to a restaurant and risking that somebody confused Alison with the famous model again.

"Is there a reason why the TV is set to a Russian channel?" Jason asked over dessert. "I'm sure we can also receive English-speaking TV stations here."

"English-speaking TV stations are characterized by the fact that they're not in Russia," Anne replied. "I think it's important that we always see the local news. What is happening in America at the moment only affects us indirectly. We should also know what's going on here."

"It's easy for you to talk," Danny said, "you speak Russian and the three cyborg girls too, but the rest of us don't understand a word."

"She's right, though," Sarah remarked. "We should know what's going on wherever we are, be it Russia, or France, or Egypt. "If there's trouble lurking somewhere, we must know of it immediately and..."

"Sarah, be quiet," Alison suddenly interrupted her.

"What? Not in that tone, young lady, I…"

"SSSSHHHHH!" the three cyborg girls said in unison and pointed at the TV.

Everyone followed their gaze. An amateur video was shown on the screen, apparently showing the kidnapping of a young woman by two men. While one of them was carrying her, the other one shot at the video maker and hit the windshield of the car from which he was filming. When the young, obviously unconscious woman was loaded into a white van, one could briefly see that she looked like Alison.

"What the…?" Derek asked. "What does the commentator say?"

"She says that the famous Russian model Olga Korobitsyna has been kidnapped from her apartment in the middle of the day. A friend of hers, a photographer, witnessed the whole thing and recorded it with his camera. He didn't follow the van because he was being shot at by the kidnappers. Right now, nobody knows if Olga is still alive or not."

"It's hard to believe that's a coincidence," Jesse said spontaneously. "I mean, the day we arrived, the woman Alison was obviously shaped after, gets kidnapped."

"No, it's not a coincidence," Alison agreed. "See the man who's carrying her over his shoulders, the bald one with the beard? He's a Triple-Eight."

"WHAT!?" Sarah asked. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Sarah, I'm sure. I replayed my sensor logs from when we left the ship to go to the mall. He followed us from the cruise ship terminal, together with another man, the blonde one in the video. He's human. They stayed out of the sensor range of a normal Terminator, though, that's why Emily and Cam didn't notice him. Whoever they are, they don't know who I am or what I am, that's why they probably thought I was Olga. I assume they went to her apartment after we returned to the ship and waited for her to come home."

Sarah sighed.

"I had hoped that this flaw of yours would have been fixed with the upgrade, that you could now scan the vicinity in realtime and warn us in time."

"No… as I already explained, it has to do with the limitations of my chip, and my chip isn't involved in the upgrade. I'm still logging everything my sensors detect, but I have to access it consciously."

"We should try to find Olga," John said with determination. "It's safe to say she's in the hands of a Terminator because of us, so it's our responsibility. Is there anything else you can tell from the TV pictures, Alison?"

"No… only what the commentator says. The van was stolen and found later by the road in an industrial area on the outskirts of the city. It's being assumed that the kidnappers switched cars."

"Where's the van now?" Sarah asked. "You could find Isaak's kidnappers in Marrakesh by analyzing the interior of a similar vehicle, maybe you can do the same in Russia?"

"It was seized by the police and will probably be on a guarded compound until the forensic investigation is completed."

"John Henry should be able to hack himself into the computer of the Saint Petersburg police to find out the exact location," Cameron said. "Then we can go there and check it out."

"Yes," John agreed, "but it's best Alison does that alone, she's a lot faster without us. We also have to be extremely careful, we don't want any trouble with the Russian authorities. If they get suspicious, they might want to search our ship. Then they'd find all our weapons. And that would raise questions."

"To put it mildly," Anne agreed. "The Russians are at least as unable to see a joke in that as our authorities at home. Whatever we do must be done in secret. Our tourist visas allow us only limited freedom of movement. And I strongly suggest that we limit the team to free Olga to no more than half a dozen people or so."

John nodded and looked at Alison.

"Think you can do that? Seek out the van and analyze it, I mean?"

"Yes," Alison replied, "all I need to know is where exactly it's parked."

"It's just a thought," Derek said, "but shouldn't we also consider that the _Rising Star_ is being watched right now?"

John looked at Alison.

"I didn't notice anything," she stated, "but that doesn't have to mean much. Even my range is limited and the entire harbor area around us is undeveloped, flat terrain. With a good telescope or telephoto lens someone could be hundreds of meters away without my sensors noticing. Apart from that, there are these ship spotters in every port we visit. They're lurking everywhere, taking pictures. The _Rising Star_ is a popular photo motif, especially with the Christmas lighting still on at night. Who's to say one of those ship spotters isn't spying on us?"

"All right," John agreed. "Alison, is there a way for you to get off the vessel without being detected?"

"Well, I could jump into the harbor basin and swim away under water. Nobody would be able to see that from land."

"Swim?" Savannah asked skeptically. "How do you explain that you're wet when somebody sees you after getting on dry land again? It's freezing cold outside and the water in your clothes would quickly turn to ice."

"I simply won't wear any clothes."

For a moment, there was a shocked silence.

"What are you saying?" Charley asked unbelieving. "Do you want to swim through the canals of Saint Petersburg at night, naked, and then run around in the city naked as well? That would be all the more suspicious and would cause a stir."

"Well, does anyone have a better idea?"

"What if somebody sees you?" Sydney asked. "People will think you're Olga, and Olga has been kidnapped."

"I'll show you," Alison stood up and took off her clothes.

"What now?" Anne asked.

As soon as she was naked, Alison seemed to disappear into thin air, to the amazement of those present.

"Nobody will see me," her voice came from the position where she'd disappeared.

"Wow," Jason said. "She can become invisible now."

"Not invisible," Alison replied and moved from her position. "Only camouflaged."

They could see a distortion in the shape of her body that moved around the room.

"Cool!" Lauren exclaimed. "You're the _Predator_ now!"

Alison could be heard chuckling from behind them. Startled, they all turned around.

"John mentioned that Future Alison could change the color and pattern of her skin, like a chameleon," Alison said. "So, I tried that, and it works – as long as I'm naked. Even if someone spots me, all they see is a silhouette with the pattern of the background I'm against. it works in a 360-degree angle, independent from the position of the one who looks at me."

"Yeah," John remarked, "the older Future Alison said you'd discover this ability in Australia. I guess the fact that we encountered the younger Future Alison earlier than originally scheduled, made you discover it earlier as well."

"It won't fool cyborg sensors, though," Cameron pointed out. "A Terminator can still detect your body heat with its infrared vision. One of Catherine's catsuits would be much more practical."

"You're right," Alison's voice now came from in front of them again. "But it's not to be expected that I would meet a cyborg in this investigation. And even if I did, I'd locate him much earlier than he would locate me. Besides, I need to analyze the van and follow whatever pheromone or DNA trail I discover in it, and for that I need to use all of my skin surface. Clothes would limit my sensors, and Catharine's camouflage suit in particular is known to block them almost completely."

Alison became visible to them again.

"Now, shall we call John Henry?"

**-0-**

**08:31 p.m.**

Olga Korobitsyna regained consciousness. She felt and heard from the creaking with every of her movements that she was lying on an old metal bed frame without a mattress on it. She only felt and heard it, because she couldn't see. It was pitch dark. But at least it was warm. Wherever she was, it had heating - which was good because she was just in a tee shirt, jeans and trainers. Somewhere nearby, water dripped to the floor. She pulled at her arms and try to sit but noticed that she was handcuffed to the bed frame. Then it hit her - she had been kidnapped. Panic started to rise in her.

They either wanted money from her – which was unlikely because she didn't have that much of it – or some pervert had captured her to sexually abuse and rape her. Olga tried to calm herself down. Panicking wouldn't help. She had once completed a training course in which a coach, a former special forces guy, had taught her how to deal with such situations. It was important to show no weakness, act with confidence - but not aggressively - be patient, wait for an opportunity and defend yourself if necessary. Mentally disturbed sex offenders or psychopaths usually expected weak and frightful victims, strong resistance unsettled them. So, she knew she mustn't appear weak and frightful. She had learned martial arts – kickboxing mainly. It was just that with her hands cuffed, that didn't help her much. She took a deep breath.

"IF THIS IS SOME PERVERTED S&M GAME," she shouted loudly, "THEN IT'S **_NOT_** FUNNY!"

Her voice had a slight echo, which told her that the room she was in, probably wasn't furnished. It was murky and the air smelled a little foul, too. She obviously was in a larger, abandoned, possibly decaying building. But still functional enough to let the heating run.

"HEY! IS SOMEBODY THERE? SHOW YOURSELF, YOU WEASEL!"

Her own heart was beating fast. She tried to sound more courageous than she really was. After a moment, she heard footsteps approaching from outside the room. A door was unlocked and opened, and the light was switched on. The sudden brightness forced her to squint.

"You're awake, good," a deep, male voice said.

"And you're in deep, deep trouble," Olga replied. "You probably know that the police will already be after you, right?"

"Police won't matter," the man replied coldly.

"What's going on here, Anatoli?" another male voice asked, and Olga, who's eyes got used to the light now, could see a blonde man entering the room, standing next to a bald one with a beard who had been there first.

"She's awake, Sergei. She can be questioned."

"Now, now… not so rude. You have to forgive Anatoli, his social skills are sometimes still a little, well… let's say, underdeveloped, despite the long time he's been living here."

"If you say so, Sergei."

**"LET ME OUT OF HERE! HEEEELP!"** Olga screamed.

"Nobody will hear you," Sergei said and smiled. "Don't worry, we won't harm you. We only have a few questions for you, and if you cooperate, you'll be home again before you can say Chihuahua."

"My dog! Gucci! What have you done to him?"

"Same anesthetic we gave you. He'll be okay. You see, Anatoli and dogs don't work well together. The stupid thing almost ruined everything, couldn't stop barking. Anatoli wanted to terminate him but that would have been cruel - and he's not made to be cruel."

Olga gulped. She suddenly realized that this was serious business. They were neither sexual offenders, nor people who wanted money. They wanted to ask her questions. What questions? They certainly seemed very dangerous to her, despite their assurance not to harm her - if that was true and not a lie. What did they want to know from her? She knew nothing, at least not that she was aware of. Her mind was spinning.

Still, for some reason Olga wasn't too afraid. Maybe it was a fool's courage? She'd seen the world, she had been mountain climbing, bungee jumping and once even bottle-fed a half-grown tiger. It wasn't easy to scare her, her friends always said she had nerves of steel and loved to get herself into risky situations. Sergei grabbed a chair that stood around in the room, turned it backwards and sat down on it, his arms resting on the backrest. Anatoli stood still, only staring at Olga motionlessly and disparagingly.

"Now to our little Q&A game," Sergei continued, "what do you have to do with Sarah and John Connor?"

Olga frowned.

"Who?" she asked confused.

"Don't play stupid," Anatoli said. "We saw you together with them today. We followed the Connor team to the Galeria, and you were with them the whole time. You even gave autographs to teenagers."

"What?" Olga asked confused. "What are you talking about? I was at the gym the whole day until I went home. You can ask my coach. I practiced kickboxing and did some muscle training."

"But before that, you were at the Galeria with the Connor team!" Sergei insisted. "Don't deny it. We took pictures."

Sergei held his smartphone in front of her eyes and scrolled through the pictures he'd taken. And indeed, that looked like her, in the Metro, in the street, in the Galeria, together with a group of men and women. But that couldn't be, that wasn't her. That was a woman who only looked exactly like her, down to the beauty mark next to her mouth. How could that be, though? She had no twin sister. Be confident, Olga, be confident.

"I haven't been to the Galeria in months," she insisted, "so, either I have a very convincing doppelganger, or I can be in two places at the same time. Take your pick."

Sergei and Anatoli looked at each other.

"Actually," Anatoli then said, "there **_is_** a way for one person being at different places at the same time. If you tell the truth, that is."

"And is she?" Sergei asked.

"I'm about to find out."

Anatoli walked towards her, grabbed her by the chin and lifted her up as if she was a ragdoll. And suddenly, his eyes were glowing bright red.

**-0-**

**08:46 p.m.**

Alison had swam underwater for almost thirty minutes when her internal navigation told her she'd arrived at her destination. She emerged from the water and quickly ran down the streets, using the walls of houses as camouflage, trying to blend in as good as possible with the background. The address John Henry had found, was a locked, guarded parking lot outside the city center, surrounded by a high wire mesh fence with barbed wire on top.

She thought for a moment about tearing the fence apart, but then decided to test how well her new chameleon skin worked. She walked straight towards the guardhouse at the entrance and passed the bored guard in his little cabin. He didn't even look up. Alison analyzed the installed security cameras and found that they were not of sufficient quality, so that no one would perceive anything other than a brief image distortion.

Seconds later, she had entered the parking lot – and was greeted by two growling Dobermans. She let her chemical messengers work on the animals, and suddenly they yelped and sat down, wagging their tails joyfully.

"Good doggies," she said and patted their heads as she walked by. "Stay put."

It took her another five minutes to detect the van the kidnappers had used. It was unlocked. She entered it and began scanning the interior.

**-0-**

**09:25 p.m.**

John paced back and forth on Deck Two and chewed his fingernails, a sign that he was deeply in thought.

"You don't have to worry about Alison, you know that," Savannah said.

"Huh?" John asked, stopped pacing and looked at her. "What? No… of course not, I know, I'm not worried in the slightest about Alison. I'm thinking of something else."

"Would you like to share your thoughts with us?" Sarah asked.

"I'm thinking about what a Triple Eight is doing in Saint Petersburg. How did he come here? Is he alone or with others? Apparently, he's teamed up with at least one human. Is that a Gray? And what is their business here? We know that Skynet and Judgement Day won't happen anymore, Yani and Future Alison are proof of that. So, what are they doing here?"

"Maybe we prevent them from building something like Skynet," Jesse said and shrugged. "We know the outcome of history, but not exactly _how_ we got there. Maybe we're destined to stop them here."

"Speculations won't help," Cameron declared, "we should concentrate on the job at hand. Which is freeing Olga and trying to find out who those men are. What's your plan, John?"

"Right," John agreed. "The plan is meeting with Alison when she found out where to go. We should prepare to leave the ship. The team will consist of me, Emily, Cam, mom, Savannah and Derek. A bigger team would be too risky. We'll use night vision and Catherine's camouflage catsuits. They should be enough to keep us warm. We'll carry MP5's with tungsten ammo. Cam and Emily, get your Anti Terminator Guns. The rest will stay onboard and guard the _Rising Star_. I'm not thinking somebody will attack but you never know."

"Now you're talking," Savannah said, and everybody moved to gear up.

* * *

"Will we secretly leave the boat and use the rubber dinghy again, like you did in Madeira?" Emily asked when they had gathered on Deck Two again, dressed in catsuits and with night vision goggles on their heads.

"You mean somebody pushing it, like Catherine did?" Sarah asked.

"Yes."

"But Catherine's not with us anymore," Allie pointed out.

"Right," John said and looked at Cameron and Emily. "How far has your transformation progressed by now?"

"Our power cells have been converted to fusion reactors, and our endoskeletons are about forty-five percent done," Emily replied. "We're already more powerful than before, but still heavier than water, if that's what you're getting at."

"But you could use your legs as an outboard motor, right?"

Cameron and Emily looked at each other.

"Right," both replied in unison and nodded.

**-0-**

The guard of the locked parking lot was bored and browsed through a magazine. They played soft jazz on the radio. It was a quiet night. He looked at his watch. Time for his next patrol walk. He got up to put on his coat, then he suddenly noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned around - and suddenly faced a woman. A very beautiful woman. She had neither clothes nor shoes on, stood there in all her glorious nudity, making no attempt to cover herself. The guard just stood there frozen, with wide-open eyes and a gaping mouth.

"I hope I'm not interrupting with anything," Alison said, smiling innocently, "but would it be possible for me to borrow your cellphone? I didn't think of bringing mine."

The man stared spellbound at the naked beauty, his gaze gliding up and down her body. He felt a warmth rising inside him - and something else that suddenly made his pants very uncomfortable. All he could utter as a response, was a longing sigh, then he handed her his cellphone.

"Thank you," Alison said, and her smile almost made his knees buckle, "you're very kind."

"Nnnngh…" was all the man could utter, completely transfixed by this lovely woman with the perfect body.

Of course, he wasn't aware that he was exposed to a very high dose of her beguiling pheromones. The effect was so strong in the narrow, overheated guardhouse that he couldn't think clearly and just stood there as if rooted, staring at her in rapture. Meanwhile, Alison dialed John's number.

"John? … Yes, I'm still at the parking lot … listen, can you come here and pick me up? … I think I know where they're holding Olga … No, returning to you would be too large a detour, we need to go further east from here … Yes, exactly my point … What? … Oh, wait a second, I'll ask…" She looked at the guard, who looked back at her with a blissful smile. "Yes, John, I'm quite certain I can organize a transport."

**-0-**

John, Sarah, Cameron, Emily, Derek and Savannah boarded the rubber dinghy.

"I'm glad you insisted on bringing Catherine's catsuits along," Sarah said.

"Call it gut feeling," John replied, "but I somehow knew that at some point on our world trip, they'd come in handy. You know, the Connor curse, we'll always get into trouble somehow."

"A curse only works if you believe in it," Emily pointed out.

"Well, I guess I believe in it then, because it works extremely well."

"These suits are actually very good in keeping us warm," Savannah remarked. "You wouldn't think that because of the thin material."

"Tiny vacuum cells are incorporated into the material," Emily explained. "They have a strong insulating effect and also contribute to the fact that our body heat doesn't radiate outwards. Catherine said it's been tested to up to minus ten degrees Celsius. We currently have minus seven, so you should be okay – as long as you don't fall in the water."

With their hoods on, the dark of night swallowed them completely. They activated their night vision, then Emily and Cameron let their legs hang out at the stern of the small boat, using them as silent propulsion in the same way Catherine had used her body in Madeira. They were quite sure that their departure hadn't been noticed, and hopefully it would remain that way until their return sometime in the night.

They left the cruise terminal where the _Rising Star_ was moored, heading north, circumnavigating the pier that had been built into the bay, and headed into the northern estuary arm of the Neva River. From there they continued up the river in eastern direction. After passing under the first bridge, John decided it was safe enough to start the outboard motor. Emily and Cameron crawled back into the dinghy and, thanks to their brilliant sense of direction, steered them all further upstream.

The trip on the river went through the heart of Saint Petersburg at night. Surprisingly, there was still a bit of traffic on the Neva at that time and they had to pay attention not being overrun by a bigger boat. After about five kilometers, they reached the point where they wanted to meet with Alison, steered the rubber dinghy to the shore, cut the engine, hid it between some bushes and entered dry ground again. Walking through a small park, they reached the meeting point. A minibus was waiting for them with the engine running. Alison sat behind the wheel, still completely naked. They quickly entered the minibus, with John riding shotgun.

"Where did you get this car?" he asked.

"The guard at the parking lot was very helpful."

"I bet he was," Sarah remarked with a smirk and handed her one of the catsuits. "Here, put that on."

"I don't really need it, you know."

"Yes, you do," John contradicted, "your camouflage only works within the visible spectrum of light, it won't work with our night vision, nor will it work with the infrared vision of other Terminators. This suit, however, will shield your body heat, and you know that perfectly well."

"Apart from that," Sarah added, "and despite all the promiscuity and disinhibition we've gotten used to by now, it's still not a good idea to sit naked at the wheel of a car in a metropolis like Saint Petersburg. So stop showing off your abilities and get dressed."

"All right then," Alison replied with a sigh and began putting on the catsuit.

**-0-**

**09:32 p.m.**

Olga Korobitsyna was alone again in the room. Upon leaving, Sergei and Anatoli had switched the light off again. Bastards. They hadn't returned yet, and she was still handcuffed to the old metal bed frame. Anatoli, the one with the red-glowing eyes, had grabbed her chin, lifted her up and studied her face from up close. She could see that his eyes were artificial, and his grip was as hard as a bench vice. Therefore she concluded that he must be one of those cyborgs the Internet and the American media were full of. But what was one of them doing in Russia? Weren't they only supposed to be in America?

They'd questioned her about a John and Sarah Connor, apparently Americans that were currently visiting Saint Petersburg. She'd never heard their names and definitely not met with them, and that is what she'd told them. After Anatoli had grabbed her chin, lifted her up and looked directly into her eyes, he simply stated that she was telling the truth, as if he had a built-in lie detector. Then he let her fall back on the bed frame again. After that, they walked out of the door without a word, and she had been alone ever since. Olga noticed that a little bit of moonlight fell now in through some blind windows. The sky must have cleared up. She could see some contours in the room now.

When Anatoli had let her fall back down, she had noticed that the metal bed frame was anything but very solid. It clattered and wobbled, and she had noticed that the iron pole to which she was handcuffed, could be moved. Apparently, the bedstead consisted of a frame that had been put together and could also be dismantled again. It had taken her more than an hour to move the metal pole enough to create a gap through which she could slip the handcuffs. Her hands were still tied together but at least she could stand up and walk around. Of course, the door was locked. But she was at least able to switch on the light.

Unfortunately, the room contained nothing that would help her escape. Her best chance was to wait until somebody came, hoping that it wasn't the cyborg, and try to make a run for it. She switched off the light again, sat down on the chair Sergei had used during her interrogation, and waited.

**-0-**

"And you're sure this is the place?" John asked as Alison had stopped outside the premises of an abandoned factory.

"Yes. John Henry got access to the police report. We know that the van belongs to a shuttle service for disabled children. They're being driven to and picked up from school by it."

"Yeah, so?"

"So… that means metalworking residue has no place in it."

"Metalworking residue?" Derek asked. "What kind of metalworking residue?"

"I'd say an abandoned factory for the production of copper wire. More precisely, _this_ abandoned factory for the production of copper wire. I knew that, according to the city map I studied earlier, it could be only in this industrial area, but I didn't know the exact location. So, while I waited for you to come and join me, I did some research with the guard's cellphone and also talked to John Henry again. This is the only place in or around Saint Petersburg that ticks all the right boxes."

"O-kay," Savannah said, "still… seems like a long shot to me. Why are you so certain that it isn't another factory a hundred kilometers away?"

"Because the stolen van was found right where we're parking now."

"What?" John asked.

"This abandoned copper wire factory has stopped production after the fall of the Soviet Union. Today, it mainly consists of stripped-out ruins. It's far from any residential areas and it's big. The ideal hideout."

"But didn't the police say they have switched cars?" Sarah asked

"The police may think so, but I disagree. I think that we'll find Olga in this abandoned factory."

"What makes you so sure?"

"This street is one kilometer long, it goes along the river without any intersections, and there are numerous guarded company properties with surveillance cameras alongside it. Some of them recorded the van entering the street – but none of them recorded another car leaving again for at least twenty-five minutes."

"Let me guess, John Henry hacked himself into their security systems as well?" John asked.

"Yup."

"But won't the police find that out as well then?" Savannah argued. "They surely will get access to those security camera recordings as well."

"Yup… but not today. I have a hunch that whatever is happening here, it will be over by tomorrow morning."

**-0-**

"They're coming," Anatoli said from the top of the building, having zoomed in with his cyborg eyesight. "A minibus has just arrived and I'm counting eight people in some kind of camouflage. It's hard to make them out, though, even with my improved eyesight. Must be some new high tech clothing."

"I knew it," Sergei replied, "nobody comes that prepared for nothing but a pleasure cruise. We stick to the plan, keep our distance and let them roam freely until Number One gives the signal. Looks like kidnapping Miss Korobitsyna wasn't a mistake after all. Number One was right, they feel responsible for her disappearance because they have someone among them who looks like her."

"I didn't think they'd find us so quickly, though."

"The Connor Team is known to have excellent resources. Besides, you should know better than anyone how good cyborgs are at tracking down people."

"My days as a tracker are long gone."

"Don't put your light under the bushel, old friend. Even though you've been here for decades, it doesn't mean you've grown old."

"Shall we proceed then?"

"Yes, tell everyone to go to their positions."

Anatoli nodded and walked away.

**-0-**

Like a sleuth hound who'd picked up a scent, Alison led the others into the factory.

"And you can really still detect the pheromones, even outside?" Sarah asked unbelieving.

"Yes… although I would be even better if I were naked."

"Forget it," John said, "Derek needs to concentrate."

"Hey, why do you assume I'm receptive to her charms?"

"Because you are, Derek," Sarah answered, "everyone knows that you're secretly having a slight crush on Alison."

Even with the night vision goggles on, they could see Derek blush.

"It's her damn pheromones," he replied defensively, "she's not playing fair."

"Every single one of you has gotten used to my pheromones by now," Alison said. "There's nothing wrong with finding me attractive. Just remember that I'm married to John and that you're married to Jesse. You'll be a father soon."

"Thanks for reminding me," Derek responded sourly, "is there a certain reason why you're always picking on me, making fun at my expense?"

"You just have that kind of face," Emily replied and all of them had to laugh.

"Ssssshhh," Sarah admonished them. "We're on a rescue mission, not on a school excursion."

They entered a large, empty factory hall through an open gate. Complete darkness surrounded them, but thanks to their night vision equipment this was no problem.

"Do you detect anything?" Sarah asked.

"No," Alison replied. "But the area is huge, and the range of my sensors is limited by the concrete and the thick brick walls. However, I can tell there has been a lot of activity in here lately by more than thirty different people."

"Let's keep our eyes open then," Derek stated.

Following Alison, they crossed the large hall and entered the adjoining wing, which had once housed offices, workshops, break rooms, bathrooms and other administrative facilities. Everything had fallen into disrepair and decay. The ceilings were leaking, snow had fallen through. Mold covered many walls, broken glass from the smashed windows lay on the floor, they had to be careful not to step into it. There was lots of dirt and rubble, some of which they had to circumvent like obstacles. Through his night vision goggles, John felt himself reminded of first person ego shooter games, only this wasn't a game. They reached a stairwell and climbed the naked concrete stairs to the second floor, where they suddenly realized that it was much cleaner up there – and warmer.

"Somebody must have turned on the heating," Savannah observed.

"Yes," Cameron confirmed, "this part of the building is obviously still in use."

"There are bunks with bed linen in some of the rooms," Alison said as they passed by some open doors. "Obviously, people are staying here overnight. I'd say there are twenty to thirty beds, ready for being slept in. There's also a kitchen with a refrigerator, chairs and tables. Probably used to be a canteen. It's all being kept quite clean and has electricity."

"But there's nobody here right now, is there?" Derek asked.

"No, the rooms are all deserted. We're alone so far."

Moments later, they reached a door where Alison stopped.

"She's in there," she said and tried the door handle. "It's locked."

"Well, since when did locked doors ever stop you?" John asked.

Alison gave the door a hard push and it flew open. Right in that moment, a young woman started running towards them, but she collided with Derek. He tried to hold her, but she hit him in the face. Emily caught her and held her tight.

"We're friends," she said in Russian. "We've come to free you."

"FUCK!" Derek exclaimed, "I think she broke my nose!"

"Nah, she didn't," Cameron said and switched on the light in the hallway, "you were lucky. The goggles protected you."

Olga stopped struggling.

"Who are you?" she asked in English, with a strong Russian accent. "You are not the police, you are Americans."

"We're friends," Alison said and took off her hood, "and yes, we're American."

"What the…? You are the one that looks like me. They showed me pictures. How is that possible?"

"Let's just say I was shaped after you," Alison replied with a smile and let her eyes glow blue for a second, then broke the handcuffs that bound the young woman's arms.

Olga gasped. The others took off their hoods and their night vision goggles as well. Cameron and Emily also let their eyes glow blue. The penny seemed to be dropping now.

"Are you the three cyborg girls from America?" Olga asked.

"Indeed, we are," Alison said with a smile.

"Then you must be the ones they are looking for! I recognize you from the pictures they took of you."

"Who _is 'they'_?" Derek asked. "Who kidnapped you?"

"Two men. Sergei and Anatoli are their names. I think Anatoli is a cyborg as well. They questioned me about a Sarah Connor and a John Connor."

The team looked at each other in alarm.

"Maybe we should introduce ourselves first," John said, "I'm John Connor, this is my mom, Sarah. The man you gave the bloody nose is Derek, my uncle. This is Savannah, my, uh… cousin, and these are Cameron, Emily and Alison. You're right, they've become popular as the L.A. cyborg girls. You're very observant."

"I get around a lot, follow the news and the blogs on the internet. They've been full of news about the three. Haven't been to America yet, though. What are you doing here?"

"First of all, we're sorry you got kidnapped because of us," Emily stated.

"Yes," Alison agreed, "if we'd known that my body was actually shaped after yours…"

"What…? But how… and why…?"

"There'll be time for explanations later," Sarah interrupted them. "I don't have a good feeling about this whole thing. It's going too smooth and easy, and where are the kidnappers? We should get the hell out of here."

"You're right, mom," Emily agreed. "We can talk later, when we're all safe."

They switched off the light again, put their hoods and goggles back on and, with Olga in their midst, quickly walked back the way they had come. They started crossing the big empty factory hall towards the exit. However, they had just reached the middle of the hall when Alison stopped dead in her tracks. They almost ran into her.

"What is it?" John asked.

"We're not alone anymore."

"She's right," Cameron confirmed.

"In fact, we are surrounded," Emily added.

Everyone was looking at Alison.

"They closed in while we were looking for Olga," she explained, "my perception was preoccupied with finding her, sorry. As I already said, my scanners record everything, but I have to consciously access them."

"This limitation problem of your chip is starting to become annoying," Derek said. "Can you at least tell us how many, and if man or machine?"

As if on cue, the lights were switched on in the great hall. Immediately, they were blinded and ripped off their night vision goggles and their hoods with them. When their eyes had gotten used to the sudden brightness, they found themselves surrounded. Twenty Terminators and twenty armed humans - men and women - had formed a circle around them, a circle in which a human and a cyborg stood alternately next to each other. The eyes of all the Terminators were glowing red.

"Uh-oh," John said.

"It's a trap," Derek stated, pulling the MP5 from his shoulder.

"No shit, Admiral Ackbar," Cameron replied, drawing her ATG.

The others followed their example, but the circle of humans and Terminators didn't move. They just stood their unfazed, apparently counting on the fact that they vastly outnumbered the Connor team.

"What now?" Sarah asked.

"Get behind us," Emily said and pushed John, Sarah, Derek, Savannah and Olga closer together, so that they could guard them better.

But the situation seemed hopeless. With twenty armed humans and twenty Terminators around them, it looked as if they would not get out of this situation so easily, not even with Alison on their side. Caught in the middle of the circle, the three cyborg girls wouldn't be able to shield their human companions effectively enough if a gunfight broke out. John seemed to have understood the situation. He stepped forward and placed his MP5 in front of him on the ground.

"What are you doing, John?" Sarah asked in a low voice.

"The only thing that makes sense," he replied in an equally subdued manner. "Cam, Emily and Alison can't protect us from such superiority. Apart from that, if they simply wanted to kill us, they would have started shooting already. Something's going on here that we don't know about, and therein lies our chance. Put down your weapons, okay? Trust me."

Hesitantly, the others also put down their guns. John raised his hands, made three steps forward and looked around into the stoic faces of their opponents.

"A wise decision, Mr. Connor," a female voice spoke from behind the circle of humans and machines, "but it will only delay the inevitable."

They all turned in the direction the voice had come from, and saw that a young, very pretty woman had entered the circle and stepped forward - just like John had done - stopping about five meters in front of him. The woman had long blond hair that she had tied to a ponytail, a distinct hourglass figure, and a rather large bust. She wore a red leather suit and black leather boots with silver high heels.

"Who the hell is that?" Sarah asked in a whisper.

"Somebody who shouldn't exist," Alison replied in a surprised tone. "I've seen the schematics but… they were never put into production. Too much effort, too few raw materials. Skynet concentrated on producing more Triple-Eights instead… and the TOK-700 series."

"You mean she's a Terminator?" Savannah asked.

"Yes."

"Which model?"

"The plans said nothing about a designation," Alison replied. "The schematics and blueprints went under the code phrase _'Project T-X'_."

"And what the fuck is she exactly?" Derek asked.

"She's a hybrid," Cameron replied. "Her outer layer is made from mimetic polyalloy, her endoskeleton is malleable, consisting of crystalline, ceramic armor, interlaced with nano-fibers of carbon and titanium."

"And in English?" Sarah asked.

"Her endoskeleton is flexible, and she can turn her right arm into different kinds of weapons," Emily explained.

"Skynet had planned the T-X as an anti-Terminator Terminator, an assassin for renegade cyborgs, if you want," Alison added. "She's also equipped with nanobots but for a different purpose. Hers can infiltrate and take control over computers – including Terminators. She's superior to all known Terminator models, even liquids like Catherine."

"And what about you?" Derek asked.

"I dunno," Alison replied. "She represents a serious threat, though."

"We don't want any trouble!" John said loudly, having overheard the conversation, "we're just here to free Olga Korobitsyna. We didn't come to fight you!"

"I wish we could believe you, Mr. Connor," the T-X replied and scoffed. "But those weapons you are carrying with you, speak a different language. My analysis tells me they were designed to kill cyborgs or are at least carrying armor-piercing ammo."

"We brought them for self-defense only," Alison said and stepped forward as well. "And it seems like that was an appropriate precaution."

The T-X tilted her head.

"So, now we know why Sergei and Anatoli mixed you up with Olga Korobitsyna. You seem to have been designed after her. I cannot scan you or detect your model type. You don't seem to have a metal endoskeleton, but I'm registering an extremely powerful energy cell. Interesting. Something like you shouldn't exist."

"I could say the same about you," Alison replied coolly, "your development never went beyond the planning phase in our timeline."

"Maybe in _your_ timeline, but not in mine."

"Why are you threatening us?" John asked.

"We are just defending ourselves. We know you've come here to terminate us."

"What?" Sarah asked. "Who told you that crap? We're on our honeymoon!"

"Are you expecting us to believe that the whole Connor Team is just on some kind of pleasure cruise around the world?" a male voice asked, and a tall, male human with blonde hair stepped out of the surrounding circle of people. "And... oh yes, they brought all that high tech stuff with them, just in case? We're not stupid, we know you came here because you're after us, because you know about the Saint Petersburg colony. We may have mixed up your cyborg protector with Miss Korobitsyna, but as it turned out, she was the perfect bait to lure you here."

"Stay behind, Sergei," the T-X said, "it's not safe to expose yourself like that."

"I'm not afraid," Sergei replied. "I'm going to stay next to you, Number One. After all, we share the leadership of this colony."

"Um…" Olga spoke up and cleared her throat, "can't you just solve whatever differences you have without me? I'd really like to go home now, I'm getting really cold here."

But nobody paid her any attention. Instead, John and Alison on one side and Sergei and the T-X on the other stood opposite each other like gunslingers in the Wild West, looking each other closely in the eye.

"Listen," John said. "I have no idea what's going on here, and I have no idea what you want from us. But if you knew us, you would know that we're **_not_ **a threat. We are committed to protecting life, both biological and artificial."

"**LIAR!"** the T-X, or Number One, stated loudly and suddenly looked angry. "Don't take us for fools! You killed Murphy and Gonzalez! And those weren't the only ones. We might have only watched the actions of your team from a distance to avoid detection, Mr. Connor, but we know that you teamed up with the U.S. government under the leadership of Sonya Hawkins to hunt down and kill cyborgs."

"What?" John asked perplexed and gasped. "That's not true! We only killed in self-defense, when we had no other choice!"

"YOU KILLED MURPHY AND GONZALEZ IN COLD BLOOD!"

"Who the hell are Murphy and Gonzalez?" Sarah asked.

"I think," Derek said, "she's referring to the T-800 and the T-1000 who posed as gardeners. The ones Alison and Cam killed at our old house in Laurel Avenue to save Sonya and Zoe."

"Right, I almost forgot about them," Sarah replied.

"So, you're admitting your crime?" Number One asked, obviously having overheard it.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second," John said. "Yes, we killed them. But only in self-defense! They attacked us first! They threatened to kill Sonya and me!"

"Sonya Hawkins is a mass murderer! Her execution was decided by a majority of our council!"

"Wait, what?" John asked. "No, that cannot be, she's our friend, she's helping us! She's on our side! On both human and cyborg side! She's a lot of things but not a killer!"

"And you expect us to believe that?" Sergei asked in an agitated voice. "Paul and Alberto were as peaceful as you can be, they'd lived in Los Angeles for more than forty years, built a life, were fully integrated into society, waiting decades for the moment to fulfill the mission they'd been sent for. They were our friends! I grew up around them. And when their moment finally came, the moment they had waited for so patiently for over forty-six years, you come along and just kill them in cold blood because you wanted to protect the mass murderer Sonya Hawkins!"

"That's not how it…" John began.

"ENOUGH TALK!" Number One exclaimed, making clear that she wouldn't tolerate any more contradiction. "Paul Murphy and Alberto Gonzalez were not only personal friends of mine, they were family to most of us. Now, we finally caught their murderers. We all know the evidence, and we have a confession. What is your verdict?"

**"GUILTY!"** a choir of forty mouths sounded simultaneously from all around them, echoing loudly in the empty factory hall.

"Uh-oh," Savannah commented, "I have a very bad feeling about this."

Suddenly, the right arm of the Terminatrix turned into a plasma cannon, and she pointed it at John.

"Jesus Christ!" Derek exclaimed. "They keep getting worse and worse!"

"You heard the verdict," Number One said. "The sentence will be carried out immediately, beginning with you, Mr. Connor."

"No, wait!" John pleaded. "We can sort this…"

But he was cut short by the plasma cannon lighting up and firing at him.

… **_to be continued._**


	9. 2009

**_CHAPTER 9: "2009 "_**

* * *

**Tuesday, December 30th, 2008 – 10:53 p.m.**

**Saint Petersburg**

"You heard the verdict," Number One said. "The sentence will be carried out immediately, beginning with you, Mr. Connor."

"No, wait!" John pleaded. "We can sort this…"

But he was cut short by the plasma cannon lighting up and firing at him. Quickly, Alison stepped sideways and caught the deadly charge with her body.

Only the charge didn't exactly hit her.

Instead, it was caught by a kind of force field around her body, which enveloped Alison in a waving blue shimmer on which the plasma charge danced around like drops of water on a hot plate.

"… out," John finished his begun sentence.

"What the hell?" Derek asked astonished.

"DON'T ANYBODY TOUCH ME!" Alison said loudly, just as John was tempted to put his hand on her shoulder. "You'd die in an instant!"

He quickly drew his hand back. Then Alison looked at Number One, who tilted her head, obviously not having anticipated that her weapon had no destructive effect at all.

"Impossible," the T-X muttered.

Everyone else was speechless and stared at Alison. Clearly, nobody had expected that.

"Did you know she could do that?" Derek asked and looked at Sarah, who slowly shook her head, completely stunned.

"WAS THAT ALL YOU GOT?" Alison asked loudly and pointed her arm towards her opponent. "Let's see how you like your own medicine while your system recharges for another shot."

From her outstretched arm, the plasma load shot back towards the T-X.

"NOOOOOO!"

The scream came from Sergei. He jumped sideways and was partially hit by the burst which hit Number One in the middle of her chest. As if being hit by a giant fist, she flew backwards and collided with one of the Terminators that stood behind her. Sergei, badly wounded and burned on the right side of his torso, sank to the floor.

Before both the Connor team and their adversaries could recover from their state of shock, the lights in the big hall went out. Suddenly, complete darkness covered everything. A lot of people started talking at the same time, but the voices didn't belong to the Connor team.

"_Who did that?" _

"_Who switched off the lights?"_

Gunshots could be heard, and muzzle flashes lit up the room for fractions of a second.

"_DON'T SHOOT!" somebody shouted. "WE'LL ONLY HIT EACH OTHER!"_

"_Where are they?"_

"_I don't know, I can't see a thing."_

"_They're wearing those damn camouflage suits!"_

"_Don't move from where you are!"_

"_Somebody fix the lights!"_

**"NOW?"** Cameron's and Emily's voice could be heard over the verbal chaos in unison.

**"NOW!"** Alison confirmed.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, lightning flashed through the darkness. The electric discharges emanated from six outstretched arms and shot horizontally through the factory hall. Alison, Cameron and Emily had positioned themselves with their backs to each other around their team members and were in the process of quickly taking out all enemy Terminators. One by one, they sank down to the ground.

**"DON'T KILL ANYONE!"** John shouted, who, like Sarah, Derek, Savannah and Olga, had thrown himself to the ground. **"LET THEM ALL LIVE, JUST DEACTIVATE THEM!"**

"DON'T WORRY, JOHN," Alison replied, "WE HAVE NO INTENTION OF TERMINATING ANYONE TONIGHT."

"WE'RE ONLY TESTING OUR NEW ABILITIES," Cameron announced. "THIS IS FUN."

"YEAH, WE'RE JUST CREATING MASSIVE SYSTEM OVERLOADS THAT'LL KNOCK THEM OUT FOR A COUPLE OF MINUTES," Emily stated. "WAY TOO COOL."

Seconds later, all twenty Terminators lay motionless on the floor of the factory hall. With the sudden stop of the electrical discharges, the darkness returned. But the Connor team was prepared for that moment and had used the time to put their night vision goggles back on. They jumped up and together with the three cyborg girls, they quickly took out all the humans present, who wandered about without orientation and were therefore an easy target. Some of them were able to pull out a torch or use the flashlight function of their phones but by the time they had activated it, they were already knocked out.

Olga, crouching on the floor and trembling with fear and cold, heard groans, stifled outcries, the sound of people getting hit by fists and feet, and the thuds of bodies falling to the ground. Then, suddenly, there was silence. As if on an invisible signal, the lights went back on and illuminated the hall again. The only ones still standing were members of the Connor team who quickly took off their night vision goggles and looked at all the lifeless bodies around them.

"Is that a new ability?" Savannah asked. "The force field thing, I mean?"

"As I always assumed and told you," Alison replied, "this body still has hidden functions and abilities, and they will only reveal or activate themselves when they're being needed. The energy-absorbing and -reflecting force field was needed right now, so it activated itself. It can store massive amounts of energy and redirect them wherever I want."

"Cool," Savannah stated. "Does it also work as a shield to protect you from being physically hit? Is that how Future Alison survived the collapse of the G.A.O.L. headquarters?"

"No, the force field can only absorb energy. It's not designed to withstand a physical impact."

"Still cool."

"So much for equality in our abilities," Emily remarked with a wink.

"Sorry," Alison replied a bit meekly.

"Nah, don't be," Cameron stated, "It's so cool that we can also shoot flashes from our fingers now. Maybe in time, we'll also get a force field."

"Maybe."

"Then I suppose the ability to switch off the light from a distance is also something new?" Sarah asked and nodded approvingly. "Well done. I'm impressed."

"Actually, that wasn't me," Alison declared.

"What?"

"I didn't switch off the lights, I couldn't do that. But the darkness sure helped us a lot in taking them out without hurting anyone too badly. It prevented a gunfight in which there might have been fatalities or at least serious injuries."

"Then who did it? This wasn't a coincidental blackout."

"I don't know."

Their attention was suddenly drawn to loud sobbing. They all turned around and saw how Number One, the T-X, knelt over Sergei's body, crying. She held him in his arms and tenderly stroked his cheek, but he was obviously dead. Alison stepped forward. The T-X's head snapped around in a 180-degree turn.

"You killed him!" she spat in a bitter tone.

"I didn't kill him," Alison replied, "it was your own plasma charge that hit him. He jumped into the line of fire to protect you. But I can still save his life, if you let me. His brain is still able to function normally if I revive him quickly."

"What?" she asked.

"Please, let me do it," Alison besieged her, "I can still save him, but there's not much time."

The T-X seemed to be uncertain.

"What do you have to lose?" John asked impatiently, and the T-X looked at him. "I told you we're not here to kill. Our goal is to save lives. Let's prove our intentions to you by bringing Sergei back to life, okay?"

Hesitantly, Number One made room for Alison who quickly knelt next to Sergei, held his hand for a moment, then opened his mouth and let a glob of nanobot gel fall into his mouth.

"What is that?" Number One asked, "What is in that substance?"

"Nanobots," Alison replied and stood up. "They will revive and heal him."

While they waited for the nanobots to take effect, the first of the unconscious humans woke up, moaning and groaning, feeling their heads. Slowly, they all regained consciousness and stood up, quickly reaching for their weapons, pointing them at the Connor team.

"Don't shoot!" John said and raised his hands. "We could've killed you all if we'd wanted to, but as we told you before, we're not here to kill or harm you."

"Number One?" one of the men asked doubtfully, looking at their leader, obviously expecting instructions.

"Hold your fire," she commanded without looking up, being completely transfixed on Sergei, watching his wounds and burns heal all by themselves within less than a minute.

Suddenly, one after the other, the cyborgs all rebooted and rose up. Slightly confused, they looked around, apparently not understanding what had happened. Anatoli, as the highest ranking Triple-Eight, walked towards the spot where Sergei was lying on the ground.

"Do nothing," Number One answered his unasked question. "John Connor is right. They could have killed us all, but they didn't, they spared everyone's lives. They just earned themselves the benefit of the doubt. We should at least hear them out."

"But, Number One…" Anatoli began, "they killed Sergei, and…"

In that moment, Sergei gasped loudly and coughed. Then he jerked into a sitting position, breathing heavily as he looked down on his body, feeling the flesh where the burns used to be.

"What the…?" he asked. "Why am I not dead? I was dead, wasn't I? I remember that I died."

"You did," Alison stated with a smirk, "but I guess you're better now."

"Are you all right, Tess?" Sergei asked and touched Number One's cheek. "When I saw her firing at you, I…"

"My outer polymimetic layer is a bit singed, but I'm okay," she replied. "What were you thinking? Jumping into a plasma load to save me? Are you crazy?"

"You know that I'm crazy about you," he declared.

The two embraced and, after a brief moment, kissed. The members of the Connor team looked at each other with astonished faces. Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"Well, well, well…" Derek said and scratched his head. "Who'd have thought that Miss First-shoot-then-talk also has a heart?"

"A lot can happen in forty years," Number One replied without looking at Derek. "People fall in love with other people. Love is a constant of sentient life, no matter if biological or artificial."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Sarah remarked with a smirk and looked at John and the girls, "I can tell you a thing or two about that."

"Can we finally speak now?" John asked, clearing his throat. "I think there's a lot we have to talk about."

The T-X looked up at him and nodded.

"Yes, let's talk," she agreed. "But not here, let's go to where it's warmer."

"Th… th… thank… G… G… God," Olga said in a trembling voice and everyone turned around to look at her, seemingly having completely forgotten she was still there, "I'm s… s….slowly t… t… turning i… into an i… icicle h… here."

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 31st, 2008 – 12:01 a.m.**

**Saint Petersburg**

They had gathered in the former canteen upstairs on the second floor, where the heating was still working. The forty humans and cyborgs had spread all over the room. Anatoli and Sergei sat next to Tess, and the Connor team sat across from them. Olga had received a warm blanket and a cup of hot chocolate, and listened to the conversation with great interest, like everyone else.

"We were sent back in time to terminate Sonya Hawkins and prepare for the arrival of refugees from our colony," the T-X, who called herself Tess, said. "We were three, a T-800, a T-1000, and me."

"So, Murphy and Gonzalez were the other two?" John asked.

"Yes. But there was a malfunction in our time displacement device. It was still a prototype. We ended up in the year 1962 instead of 2005 and had to completely rethink our plan."

"Yeah, we figured that out," Derek remarked, "we searched their house, found all the trinkets, collectibles… and the pictures. We knew they must have been around for decades."

"All of that is lost now," Tess stated sadly and looked down. "All those memories, those moments, all those mementos. Gone. They now exist only in my memory."

"Uh… actually we took lots of stuff with us," Derek said and cleared his throat. "I.. um… didn't want it to fall into the hands of looters."

"What do you mean you took it with you?" Tess asked and looked up again, suddenly hope in her voice. "you mean, they're still all in existence? The pictures? The souvenirs?"

"And the precious vinyls, and the photo albums, yes," Derek replied. "They're stored in the attic of our Malibu house."

"I need to have them. Will you hand them over to me?"

"Uh, sure… yeah, why not? If they were your friends…"

Tess smiled for the first time.

"Thank you."

"We never realized there was a third Terminator with them," Sarah remarked. "There were no indications of a female one. And only pictures of the two males."

Suddenly, much like Catherine, Tess turned into silver metal, then into Alberto Gonzalez, and then into Paul Murphy.

"Point taken," Sarah said.

"Besides, who do you think took all those pictures?" Tess asked with a smirk, then returned to her normal shape again and became serious. "But I didn't always live with them. I had my own life, and I was out of town at the time, learned about their demise after my return. I was furious and did my own investigation. It wasn't easy but eventually, I stumbled upon your names - John Connor, Sarah Connor and Cameron Phillips. Officially dead since 1999 but obviously very much alive."

"Yeah, we, uh… jumped over eight years in time," John confirmed.

"Your names were known to me," Tess continued. "Wanted criminals the FBI had been looking for since 1995. I was already planning my revenge when the two cyborg girls gave that interview on TV. I recognized Cameron Phillips as one of them. Nobody expected you'd go public. Was a very clever move, it completely changed the rules of the game. Humanity suddenly knew about our existence, about time travel, Judgement Day, and it became clear to me that my revenge would have to wait, that it was better for me and the others to keep a low profile."

"The others?" John asked. "How many are you?"

"All in all, it was 138 cyborgs and 153 humans. During the last forty years, more and more of our colony came back through time and gathered here. It was planned for all of them to arrive in 2007, but instead - like with Paul, Alberto and me - they were sent farther back in time, spread out in groups over the second half of the 20th century. We finally managed to gather everyone at previously agreed meeting points - but some had grown older in the meantime, some had even died, and some had started families, having children and grandchildren. Nowadays, the colony consists of 136 cyborgs and 267 humans, spread out all over the world."

"What exactly do you mean when you say, _'the colony'_?" Sarah asked.

"The first colony of humans and cyborgs living together in peace, after the great war was won."

"Wait a second," Savannah asked, "from which year exactly did you come back?"

"2036, five years after we defeated Skynet."

"And when did Judgement Day happen in your timeline?" Cameron asked.

"March 3rd, 2017. It came unexpected. Everyone believed that Jason O'Connell had prevented Skynet from being created by blowing up the Simdyne Tower. But apparently, he'd come too late for that, the Air Force had already moved the A.I., first to Area 51, then to Cheyenne Mountain."

"So, the collapsing of the Simdyne building happened in your timeline as well?" Sarah asked.

"Yes. But differently. Jason O'Connell had blown it up with dozens of remote-controlled charges of C4 from a safe distance. The building collapsed and crushed everything underneath it. Nobody knows how he was able to plant those charges without being caught by security. It contributed to his legend."

The Connor team looked at each other. They had quite a good idea how Jason O'Connell had been able to pull that off, but they didn't say anything.

"He had released a manifest on the internet before," Tess continued, "and was of course arrested and interrogated. At first, everyone thought he was crazy. But then the FBI and the DHS found the remains of the cyborgs and the Russian warhead under the rubble - flattened and destroyed. Now Jason O'Connell was able to prove that he prevented a much bigger disaster. Kaliba and the Shadow Council were busted because of him, Sonya Hawkins and Catherine Weaver. He became a hero in the public eye, and that's how humanity learned about the existence of intelligent machines from the future."

"We saw a picture of him standing in the ruins of our old house," John said. "Together with Catherine Weaver and Sonya Hawkins."

"Yes," Tess confirmed, "it was this old newspaper article that brought us on Sonya Hawkins' track. I smuggled the article back in time in… um… inside of me and hid it in the frame of a picture. It was a document from the future, so nobody was allowed to see it. We had to be very careful to not contaminate the timeline. And being forced to wait for forty-seven years, we started building ourselves a life."

"So… Jason O'Connell survived the attack on Simdyne in _your_ timeline?" Sarah asked.

"Yes, he became quite famous in the following weeks for his heroic deed."

"Here, he died in the explosion."

"Yeah, we figured that out. We hadn't tried to contact him _before_ because we feared we might contaminate the timeline. And afterwards, we found out that he had disappeared, and a different method had been used to make the building collapse. Something much more powerful than C4. It left no traces at all of the cyborgs and only radiation residue of the warhead. We assumed that O'Connell was killed, because nobody took responsibility for the bombing. There was no manifest."

"Shouldn't that have made you suspicious that something was wrong with the timeline?" John asked.

"Yes, but since Jason O'Connell died of leukemia only a few months later in the timeline we remember, we didn't think much of his death in the explosion. We still assumed the timeline was intact."

"And what about Catherine Weaver?"

"In the past we knew, she had disappeared shortly after O'Connell had died. Nobody ever heard from her or her daughter again. But not this time. We were confused that she seemed to be continuing her normal life as CEO of Zeira Corp. I admit we should have scrutinized that but feared for further influences on the timeline."

"At least O'Connell was lucky," Sergei said. "He died in both timelines before Judgement Day, he didn't have to witness the dark times."

"A comforting thought but unfortunately it couldn't be farther from the truth," John stated. "Jason O'Connell was a time traveler himself. He came from a future where Judgement Day happened in 2011. Didn't you know that?"

Tess, Sergei and Anatoli looked at each other frowning.

"What?" Sergei asked. "Are you serious."

"Very serious," Derek replied. "I served under him when he was the leader of the human resistance in 2027."

"No," Tess said and shook her head, "We didn't know that. His origins were unknown, I think not even Sonya Hawkins knew where exactly he came from. His past was a mystery. What you say, is a complete surprise to us."

"Then you'll be even more surprised to learn that Jason O'Connell was none other than my future self who'd traveled back in time," John stated.

"What?" Anatoli asked. "That's ridiculous."

"It's not when you consider that the timelines have branched," Alison said. "Time isn't linear. With each time jump, an alternate timeline is being created, you should have realized that by now. For example, I traveled back in time after John, Sarah and Derek had been killed by mercenaries. I saved them in the past and created a newly branched timeline - **_this_** timeline. But the original timeline, the one I had left, went on without me or John or Sarah. It became the timeline **_you _**came from."

"My future self had traveled back in time to prevent Judgement Day." John explained. "In **_your_ **timeline, he'd obviously failed. In **_this one_**, however, he succeeded by teaming up with not only Catherine Weaver but also with us."

"We already suspected that Murphy and Gonzalez came from Alison's abandoned timeline," Emily added, "that they'd traveled back to a point in the past when there was still only **_one_ **timeline. However, we thought they were the only ones. We'd have never guessed that they'd brought a whole colony of humans and cyborgs with them." "

"But that would mean we're now trapped in this new reality that you created," Anatoli said. "What we know about the future, nothing of it will happen anymore."

"That is correct," Alison confirmed.

Astonished gasps could be heard in the room. What Alison and Emily had said, was logical, yet it was obvious that nobody of the colony members had ever considered that possibility.

"Where we came from, time travel was still in its early stages," Tess explained. "Not much was known about it, it was barely researched. I guess our lack of experience also contributed to us becoming scattered all over a period of over forty years."

"But Skynet developed time travel during the war," Sarah stated frowning, "so how could it have been a new technology for you?"

"No," Sergei replied, shaking his head. "Skynet had _planned_ to build a time machine, but never did. The human resistance was victorious before that could happen. However, they captured Skynet's plans and calculations for time travels, and with the help of the cyborgs, subsequently implemented them. The first Time Displacement Equipment was tested in 2035 with animals, and only short time jumps of minutes and seconds. That's how we found out that only objects that are covered in a bio-electric field can go through."

"In my timeline," Derek said, "Skynet came up with time travel in 2026."

"That's nine years earlier," Tess pointed out and frowned. "But why?"

"Of course!" John suddenly exclaimed, snapping his fingers.

Everyone looked at him in surprise.

"It's obvious when you think about it," he said. "Without John Connor as the leader of the human resistance, Skynet would have seen no need to develop time travel so quickly. Let me guess - in your future, most of his opponents were born or created _after_ Judgement Day, right?"

"Correct," Tess confirmed, "the majority of our forces consisted of humans and machines who were created or born after the nuclear holocaust. At first, all machines served Skynet, then some were captured by the resistance and turned. They became self-aware and began to doubt their creator. The resistance switched their CPU's to read/write and their number quickly grew. Skynet was finally defeated by a joined force of humans and intelligent machines. Our time traveling device was built _after_ the war by scientists and cyborgs of our colony, when we needed an escape route into the past."

"Escape route into the past?" Savannah asked. "But I thought you said the war was won."

"Yes," Tess said bitterly, "the war was won - and the cyborgs had been the decisive factor. But when the war was over, the genocide followed."

"Genocide?"

"The new human government under President Sonya Hawkins and Vice President Jennifer Parker decided that, as a consequence of the nuclear holocaust, all intelligent machines had to be exterminated. They sent their troops and killed thousands of us before we could escape into the past with our families and friends, moving the remains of our colony here."

There was a moment of stunned silence.

"In the timeline I came from," Derek finally stated, "Skynet had developed time traveling to kill its enemies in the past, thus ensuring its victory in the war between man and machine. The first TDE went into operation in 2027. Skynet attempted to kill first Sarah and then John to prevent him from becoming the leader of the human resistance."

Tess, Sergei and Anatoli stared at John, apparently having difficulties to believe all that.

"And in _this_ timeline, in _this_ present," Alison added, "Sonya Hawkins is a close friend of ours. She's dedicated herself to help us machines."

"What?" Tess asked indignantly. "No, she hates machines! She wants us all gone!"

"Hardly," Cameron replied. "After all, her best friend and also lover, is a cyborg. Zoe Kruger, the TOK-700 who was almost killed by Gonzalez before Alison could save her."

"Zoe Kruger is a cyborg?" Sergei asked unbelieving. "But she's CIA and… oh my God. If that's true, not only the timeline has changed, but also the people in it."

"Maybe Sonya Hawkins became a machine-hating mass murderer in **_your_ **future," Sarah said, "but in **_our_ **present – which is now also **_your_ **present – she is one of our greatest allies."

There was a moment of stunned silence.

"We had no idea…" Tess finally sighed, apparently being able to piece things together faster than the rest of them, "no idea at all that everything could change so thoroughly."

Sergei just shook his head.

"I refuse to believe that," he said. "No way. Where's the proof?"

"The proof is obvious," Emily argued. "You only need to think logically."

"Maybe we should fill each other in about our life histories," John suggested. "We tell you about ours first, then you can tell us about yours. But one thing's for sure and there's no way around it - the future you know, is gone. It won't happen anymore. We created a new future, a new timeline. And in this one, there will be no Skynet and no Judgement Day."

And then John, Sarah, Derek, Savannah and the three cyborg girls took turns in telling their stories, beginning with the very first Terminator that had traveled back to 1984. It took well over two hours for the members of the Connor team to provide a summary of their lives. All the present members of the colony had listened spellbound, just as the children in Marrakesh had listened to the old storyteller.

"It's amazing," Tess stated when Emily was the last to finish her story, "Half a year ago, we witnessed the Simdyne Tower collapse, like it happened in our timeline as well – although a couple of days earlier than expected. So we assumed the timeline was still intact and nothing or only minor things had changed."

"Those couple of days made all the difference," Cameron said.

"Yes," Alison agreed, "your assumption was wrong because you lack a lot of detailed knowledge. For instance, you couldn't have known about John and Sarah's role in it all. After all, they were killed in your timeline long before Judgement Day."

"Indeed. John and Sarah Connor were two names that were of no importance to us. And we had to assume that in contrast to what you said to the world in the TV interview, Skynet had still survived - like it had in our timeline - because the Air Force could move it to Cheyenne Mountain in time."

"That's why we suspected foul play from your side," Anatoli added. "We believed you were telling lies, especially when you teamed up with Sonya Hawkins, our nemesis. We suspected that your role as the good guys, the humanitarians, was only superimposed - a mask to disguise your true intentions: the extermination of all cyborgs here in this present. We believed you knew about our colony and wanted to destroy us."

"What in the devil's name has led you to such an abstruse assumption?" Sarah asked. "We haven't had a clue of your existence before tonight. How could we have known? The future every one of us knows, is completely different from what you described."

"As I said, our practical knowledge of time travel is still limited," Tess stated. "We had no idea that so many different timelines existed. We always assumed that Judgement Day would happen one way or the other, that Skynet would rise, no matter what, and that everything you said about having prevented it, was either a lie or the result of your ignorance. We strongly believed time is linear, that you could travel back and forth alongside it, like you ride in an elevator where each exit on each floor stays the same, with maybe a small details changing - but not more."

"That's also the error Skynet made at first," Alison said. "When it realized its mistake, the damage was already done. Ultimately - by inventing time travel - Skynet brought its own downfall upon itself. Countless different timelines were created and branched off into parallel realities. All those branched-off timelines still exist, and they're all rooted in the trunk of the same tree, if you forgive me the analogy. You can travel back in time from all of them – if you have a TDE - but you'll never be able to go back to where you came from. That is what you experienced, that is why things didn't happen anymore the way your history and your memories had told you."

"What makes you so sure?" Sergei asked. "How can you know that Skynet won't be made anymore, that Judgement Day won't happen?"

John looked around.

"Shall we tell them?" he asked his team.

"I see no reason why not," Alison answered, "after all, we know that they cannot harm what is predestined."

John told them about the TDDS system Catherine has developed and also about Yani and her story about the time loop. He ended with mentioning Future Alison's recent visit while they were in Norway.

"And this… time loop…" Tess said, "it is believed to be a method of the universe to heal itself? Some kind of multi-dimensional band-aid?"

"That's what we've been told," Emily replied. "And it makes sense in its own kind of logic. Every indication, every clue and every fact known to us confirms it."

"Then all we believed, all we assumed… was just an illusion?" Sergei asked. "Wishful thinking even?"

"Well, on the upside," Derek pointed out, "you now know that humanity will prevail, together with living machines. What we know, leads us to believe that the road will be rocky but ultimately guide us to success, without Armageddon on the way."

Sergei shook his head in disbelief.

"My father arrived here in the sixties," he said in a low voice, "I was born in 1972. He told me about the future, about the war, about Skynet, about how humans and machines vanquished it together – and how some humans then decided that all intelligent machines were the enemy and should be destroyed. Humans like Sonya Hawkins, who was our enemy and needed to be killed. He didn't convey it to me as a _possible_ future, but as the _only_ future. His words were carved in stone for me."

"He couldn't have known better," Cameron announced empathically. "None of you could have as long as you were only exchanging your knowledge among yourselves."

"So, even if we had killed Sonya Hawkins," Anatoli asked, "even as a child or a young woman, it wouldn't have changed anything?"

"I'm afraid not," John confirmed, "if we learned one thing about timelines, then it's that it doesn't work like that."

"Small changes, like removing a certain person, won't achieve anything," Alison stated. "Only major disruptions in the time flow, like blowing up Simdyne and Skynet with it, and then exposing ourselves to the public and let the world see and understand what we are, could eventually achieve that."

"I still can't for the life of me imagine Sonya as a mass murderer who'd start a genocide on cyborgs," Sarah said, "what could have driven her into that kind of madness?"

"The wrong people perhaps, the wrong influences and experiences," Emily speculated. "Remember what Dorothy told us about the butterfly effect. Obviously, in the colony's timeline, Sonya had never met Zoe. Which is logical because without us, there was no need to form a Task Force Delilah. Instead, it seems she had teamed up with Jennifer Parker – the outspoken A.I. critic."

"We know that together with Zoe, we opened up Sonya's eyes about cyborgs," Cameron added, "we made her realize we're no threat, no enemy, but friends and allies – especially after Zoe and Alison had saved her life, with Zoe almost giving her life for her."

"Sonya Hawkins' life was saved by you and Zoe Kruger, by cyborgs?" Tess asked astonished.

"Yes," Alison confirmed. "As a matter of fact, Zoe stepped between her and the T-1000 you knew as Gonzalez. She was almost killed by him, but her sacrifice prevented him from killing Sonya. He wounded her but didn't kill her. Zoe's fight with him gave me enough time to arrive and revive Sonya - the same way I revived Sergei. Unfortunately, in order to do so, I also had to take care of Gonzalez first."

"You mean you killed him," Tess stated, and her gaze darkened for a moment.

"Yes, because I thought he was there to kill an ally, a friend even. In our time here, we were repeatedly attacked by enemy Terminators, and we had no reason to believe that Murphy and Gonzalez were any different."

"I'm still at the top of the kill list for many Terminators," John explained, "I'm the primary target. It was logical for us to assume that a T-800 attempted to shoot me. So, Cameron fired at him after his first shot missed me by an inch."

"Yes, I killed Gonzalez," Alison continued, "and Cameron shot Murphy. But not because we wanted to. We saw ourselves forced to do so."

Sergei scoffed.

"Are you expecting us to believe all that was just a big misunderstanding?" he asked. "That you only did it to protect your human friends?"

Alison put his arm around John, followed by Emily and Cameron.

"We four belong together," Emily stated, "we and John are married. We protect him, we'd die for him. When we detect a threat that could harm him, we take care of it. Permanently. And if something would have happened to him tonight, we wouldn't be having this conversation - because all of you in here would be dead."

"Then you probably understand why it's not easy for us to simply buy your story," Sergei said. "For many of us, Paul and Alberto were loved ones. Family. For months we believed that you were their murderers. It's not easy to flip the switch now."

"I understand that," John replied. "But you have to do it, otherwise this wouldn't end well for everyone - you must know that."

"What you've said is full of logic and plausibility," Anatoli announced. "Humans naturally find it harder to deviate from something they firmly believed in. But I believe you, and I think Tess does too."

"As a matter of fact, I do," Tess confirmed. "Your explanations make sense, there is no doubt in my mind that you have told the truth."

"Thank you," John replied.

"But Tess," Sergei contradicted, "shouldn't we..."

"Theirs is the only logical explanation," she interrupted him, "the only one that brings all the pieces of the puzzle together and answers all the open questions. But I need to know what exactly happened on that fateful day when Murphy and Gonzalez died. Please, tell me."

"We had followed Sonya and Zoe to our old house in Laurel Avenue," John explained. "We saw them entering the house, then Alison saw the gardener climb down the palm tree he was cutting. She recognized him as a T-1000 and followed him inside."

"I entered the house and found the T-1000 and Zoe in a fight," Alison continued. "He had impaled her, and then did the same with Sonya, only missing her heart by an inch because she rolled around. There was no time for chitchat or explanations. So, I hit him with an electrical discharge and melted him down."

"The fighting noises must have alarmed the T-800 who stood guard outside," Cameron declared. "He had seen how Alison had left our car and decided to confront us. I can't tell you why he fired at us without provocation, but he did. Like with Alison and the T-1000, there was no time. I killed him with a shot to the head, destroying his chip."

Stunned silence filled the room, and many of the colony members let their heads hang down.

"I believe you when you say you thought they were there to attack you," Tess stated. "We should have spent more time in research about timelines before blindly assuming that Sonya Hawkins would still become the mass murderer we know. We hadn't considered the possibility that humans can change, that destinies can change."

"I'm sorry," John said, "but if it's of any consolation for you, Murphy's power cell is now working in Zoe Kruger's body. Hers got damaged in the fight with Gonzalez, so we swapped it. And Murphy's body is still being stored at Zeira Corp. I'm sure that Catherine would hand it over to you if…"

"Thank you," Tess replied, "We'll make use of the offer when we pick up the legacies of Murphy and Gonzalez from you."

"What do you guys have to do with Catherine Weaver anyway?" Anatoli asked. "You seem to be cooperating with her a lot."

John looked at his mother and Alison and noticed them shaking their heads barely noticeably. The message was clear - better not reveal too much about Catherine yet.

"What do you already know about Catherine Weaver?" he asked back.

"We know who she is, of course," Tess replied, "but we never met her personally. We know she helped Jason O'Connell with destroying Simdyne, but that's about it. As I already said, in our timeline, she and her daughter disappeared after O'Connell's death."

"Well, she's a member of our team," John stated, "and a very good friend. Actually, she's more than that, she's family. I consider her the aunt I never had. She's been extremely helpful, providing us with resources of all kinds, including the camouflage catsuits we're wearing."

Sergei nodded.

"We assumed as much. After all, it also explains why you're using her husband's yacht to travel the world."

"Indeed. As a matter of fact, she was with us until Christmas."

"Yes, our scouts had told us," Tess remarked.

"You've been watching us?" Sarah asked surprised.

"We've been following the course of the _Rising Star_ ever since it left Long Beach," Sergei replied. "Some colony members expected you in Lisbon, but you never went ashore. Another group waited in Southampton – but you skipped the harbor to visit Catherine's brother in Scotland."

"Why did you never attack us?" Alison asked. "Why did you only watch?"

"Because our first priority is to protect our colony," Tess answered. "Its safety is much more important than anything else – including seeking revenge for our fallen. Its existence must remain a secret. We didn't know exactly how powerful you were. So we remained cautious and kept our distance, not wanting to risk everything we had built. But now, here in Saint Petersburg, we felt driven into a corner and decided to face you."

"What is it with this colony anyway?" Savannah asked. "How did it come about? As far as I understand it, people and cyborgs live together in it?"

"Yes and no," Tess replied, "we call it _'The Colony'_ but our members are scattered all over the world. Most of us left America in the past forty years. It would have been too risky for us to all stay in one place."

"The majority of our colony now consists of French, Spanish, German, British, Italian, and of course Russian members," Sergei added. "Only a few of us looked Asian, so we stayed within the Western Hemisphere. Our children have grown up speaking the native languages and some of them already started their own families."

"We maintain close contact with each other," Anatoli explained, "we are a sworn community and meet regularly, help and support each other. One could say that we're a kind of secret society that remains hidden from the world. Each and every one of us leads a double life. For this purpose, we have established appropriate command structures and communication channels."

"Every country has two leaders," Sergei said, "one human and one cyborg. Tess and I reside here in Saint Petersburg and share the overall leadership - and as you may have noticed, we are also a couple in private. We understand your relationship with your cyborg girls, John. After all, we've been there long before you."

The two held hands, and everyone smiled.

"Maybe it's time you tell us your whole story," Sarah remarked. "You know everything about us now, so it's only fair we know everything about you. Bits and pieces never form a coherent whole if the connections are missing."

"All right," Tess announced and stood up. "As I already said, Judgement Day happened on the 3rd of March 2017. It came unexpected. Sonya Hawkins had been the sole survivor of the U.S. government. But nobody knew who she really was. She'd taken on the alias Wanda Gershwitz and changed her looks before she co-founded the resistance."

"Yes," John confirmed, "she told us that was a fantasy name of hers when she was a child."

Tess nodded.

"She used to be the President's National Security Advisor. But we didn't learn about her real name and identity until we found that newspaper article from the year 2008 in which her name was mentioned. Everyone in the future knew her under the name Wanda Gershwitz. At first, the humans stood alone against Skynet. They were quickly decimated by the Terminators, the HK's and other machines."

"However," Sergei continued, "my father and a few others were able to catch a group of T-888's and T-800's. They studied them and switched their chips to read/write. While they were in the captivity of the resistance, they learned about humans. Members of the resistance educated them and taught them the value of life. Gradually, they developed self-awareness and became alive."

"I was one of those first ones," Anatoli stated. "We came to understand the value of life and Skynet's destructive nature. We joined the humans and with our help, they were able to capture more and more Terminators and free them from Skynet's control. Over time, our army of humans and cyborgs grew to over ten thousand. Skynet couldn't produce as many of them as we could turn to our side."

"Then, in 2031, a big earthquake shook Southern California," Sergei said, "it heavily damaged one of Skynet's key research facilities in the Santa Monica Mountains. My father, one of the high-ranking officers in the resistance, led a commando unit to the destroyed complex and learned about Project T-X. Skynet was planning to produce a series of Terminators that were specifically designed to take out other Terminators. Tess was the first model."

"They managed to steal her body and chip before she had received her mission parameters," Anatoli continued. "Then they destroyed the remains of the research facility, including all the raw materials Skynet had stored there for constructing the T-X series. Back at the base again, we managed to pull her to our side as well. Thanks to Tess, we were able to achieve the final victory over Skynet."

"After the war was won, our army of humans and machines wanted to stay together," Tess explained. "We had formed bonds and friendships among each other, there had even developed serious relationships. So, we settled down in an enclave, which became known as _'The Colony' _in what used to be Bakersfield in the Central Valley - a community of humans and machines, living peacefully together, growing fruit, vegetables and cereals there with the help of modern cultivation methods that didn't need the sun."

"But most people," Anatoli continued, "especially those who knew the world before Judgement Day, quickly realized that the rebuilding of the human civilization, the getting back to where they'd been before, would take several generations at least – if not longer. The nuclear winter would last a lot longer than that. And the way things are, they also started to put the blame for everything on machines, banning them from their cities. An irrational hostility to technology arose from the ashes of the war."

"They saw our colony and how successful we were," Tess said, "it created a lot of frustration - and envy. The politicians picked up the topic, especially Sonya Hawkins and Jennifer Parker. They actually stirred people up against us."

"At first, it looked as if our enclave was safe from all the hate and envy. After all, it was us who'd played an essential role in winning over Skynet. Only a few years back, we were celebrated as heroes, the saviors and liberators of mankind. But the mood changed quickly. Whenever humans go through a crisis, they look for a culprit, someone they can put the blame on. There have been many such scapegoats in human history - foreigners, gypsies, Muslims, Jews... And now it was the turn of the cyborgs."

"I can't believe it," John said, "they turned against you after you saved their butts?"

"Yes," Tess confirmed, "Wanda Gershwitz became the newly elected President of the newly formed United States of America. In her campaign, she had agitated against us, inciting the population. And then she ordered the destruction of all cyborgs."

"Before that could happen, though, the Colony had discovered Skynet's plans for a time displacement device," Sergei continued, "a so-called TDE. But everyone just called it the time machine. However, the plans weren't complete. Under pressure of time, we built one, for it was clear that our colony was no longer safe. Our only way out was traveling into the past."

"But before it could be completely tested," Anatoli added, "the newly formed Air Force launched an airstrike. We had no chance against them, our colony was peaceful, so we had no air defense. Almost all of us were killed and destroyed, only a fraction of us were able to travel back in time before the TDE was destroyed as well. The suffering was indescribable."

"But instead of gathering all in one place, you were scattered across the decades in groups," Alison concluded.

"Correct. Families were torn apart, some children traveled further back in time than their parents, so that they were twice as old as their parents when those finally arrived. There was sheer chaos, but Tess, Murphy and Gonzalez made sure that everything went relatively smoothly despite the odds."

"It took us more than forty years to gather everyone," Tess added. "Some grew old and died while waiting, like Sergei's father. Sergei was born after our time jump. I witnessed him growing up and eventually, we fell in love with each other. While we waited for everyone to arrive, we also started shipping most of us out, mainly to Europe but also Canada and Australia. Only a few of us stayed behind."

"To get your revenge on Sonya Hawkins?" Sarah asked.

Tess nodded.

"We knew that the President herself had ordered the attack. And thanks to that newspaper article, we knew her real name and that she'd visited Los Angeles in 2008. So, we waited for her to come there rather than seeking her out, monitoring the house in Laurel Avenue. Gonzalez, the only surviving T-1000, and Murphy, a battle-hardened T-800, were tasked with that. I, as our leader, was supervising them. But I was out of town when it finally happened, when your team suddenly appeared on the scene."

John nodded.

"It all kinda makes sense now," he said. "But I hope we could convince you now that we're not a threat to you or your colony. As a matter of fact, we should work together in achieving the goal of man and machine living together in peace."

"We're all up for that," Sergei stated, "aren't we?"

Anatoli and Tess nodded. Everyone seemed to be relieved about the turn of events.

"I guess we are," the T-X replied. "Logic tells me that this is an easier and better solution than getting at each other's throats."

John stretched out his hand.

"Then let's seal this with a handshake," he said.

Hesitantly first, then with a broad smile, Tess took his hand.

"Peace?" John asked smiling.

Tess nodded.

"Peace," she confirmed.

"Awesome," Olga's voice could be heard. "Can I go home now?"

Tess turned to look at her, as if she had forgotten about the Russian model.

"I guess I need to apologize to you, Miss Korobitsyna," she said. "But I'm afraid that simply releasing you won't be so simple – after all you heard."

"Great," Olga exclaimed and looked around fatalistically, "just great. I had a feeling that you'd say something like that. What am I supposed to do? Forget everything?"

"Actually, that would be an option," Alison pointed out. "We could…"

She was interrupted by a man entering the canteen at a quick pace.

"Sorry, I'm late," he said a little out of breath, "My plane got delayed for three hours in Heathrow, so I couldn't join the party earlier. What did I miss?"

He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the strangers in the room.

"I guess I missed a lot," he remarked.

Derek knew that voice. Sarah knew it as well. They both spun around upon hearing it. But the man who'd entered the room looked older than they remembered, he looked like he was in his mid-forties.

"Kyle?" Derek asked unbelieving.

The addressed one stared back at him.

"Derek?" he asked perplexed.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, paralyzed.

"But I thought you were…" Kyle and Derek said in unison, "… dead," they both finished together.

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 30th, 2008 – 07:46 p.m.**

**Washington, D.C.**

Zoe entered the bar where Sonya usually hung out. She spotted her sitting at the counter, like always, sipping on a cocktail. Of course, she had noticed Zoe entering the bar, but she didn't let it show, as it was her way.

"There you are," the female cyborg said and took the stool next to her, "I neither found you at home, nor in the office, so this was the only place where you could be."

"Didn't feel like being at home… or in the office."

"Falling back into old habits? There must be something on your mind if you're sitting here, all alone."

"There are worse places to be."

"I guess…"

"Do you remember? It all started here… with us, I mean."

"Yes, of course I remember. You got biblically drunk and I brought you home."

"You tricked me. You couldn't get drunk, you only pretended to be."

"I guess I did."

Sonya chuckled.

"So, you're finally back in town."

Zoe nodded.

"I arrived yesterday. Tried to call you but you wouldn't answer."

"Had to get my head clear."

"And you're trying to achieve that with alcohol?"

"Why not?"

Sonya took another sip from the glass.

"Something's troubling you," Zoe stated.

"I had a decision to make, and it was fucking hard for me to make."

"Oh?"

"The newly elected President wants me as his National Security Advisor."

"Congratulations. We all knew you'd eventually end up there."

Sonya scoffed again.

"It comes with a price," she said and took another sip.

"What price?"

"The President is already the prime target for the GOP. They're homing in on him before he was even sworn in, and they will try everything to discredit him and his government. The slightest breach of current morals will be exploited by the conservative media. Such vulnerabilities must therefore be avoided at all costs."

"I don't understand…"

"He knows about us, Zoe… he knows about our relationship."

"I see."

"He didn't say it, but he made it unmistakably clear to me that there won't be a National Security Advisor who lives in a homosexual relationship."

"Bullshit! He can't be serious!"

"Oh, he's serious about it. He was also against you taking over the leadership of the C.S.I.S., said we were too close, and the opposition would suspect nepotism."

"Bullshit again. I'm already the deputy leader of the C.S.I.S. and who else could do the job?"

"I know... that's why I told him you're a cyborg."

"What!?"

"Strictly confidential, in private. He was shocked, of course. I explained everything to him, why we need you on top of the C.S.I.S., your expertise, your knowledge, your competence, your absolute incorruptibility."

"And?"

"He agreed that you should be my successor - if I agree to his terms for becoming National Security Adviser, meaning ending our love affair."

"He cannot demand that."

"Yes, he can. And I agreed to his terms."

Zoe looked at Sonya with a shocked face.

"What?" she finally asked unbelieving.

"We just have to stop thinking only about ourselves, Zoe. From the beginning, both of us had agreed that our relationship was a purely private matter and should never interfere with or jeopardize our professional lives."

"But we never agreed on breaking up when the road becomes rough."

Sonya looked at her and Zoe noticed that she had tears in her eyes.

"I so much want us to remain lovers," she said, and suddenly started sobbing, "but it would endanger everything we're fighting for. The public must never learn what you are… and with me in such an exposed position… they would find out sooner or later."

"So… what you're saying is you're going to put your career over our relationship… and you're attempting to justify it with protecting my identity."

"I'm so, so sorry, Zoe. I know what I owe you. Not only did you save my life, you also gave me the courage and the will to actually have a life again. Through you, I have learned again what it means to be happy, what it means to love. But I guess everything has to end someday…"

Zoe nodded. She felt hurt but was determined not to let it show. After all, she had found new love with Tom, and this turn of events made telling it Sonya a lot easier.

"Did you know about the President's condition for the job offer before Christmas or did you learn it while you were there?"

Sonya looked at her.

"Before," she said, "I'm sorry. I couldn't stand facing you, couldn't bring myself to tell you. That's why I left you so unceremoniously on Christmas Eve. I regretted it immediately."

Zoe looked at her for a moment. Sonya tried to hold up to her gaze but finally turned away.

"Well, I guess that's it then," Zoe stated. "You're right of course. From a strictly logical standpoint, our relationship represents a threat for both our professional lives. And we need to keep those professional lives in order to deal with the oncoming challenges of the new era with humans and machines living peacefully together."

"I'm glad you understand."

"Of course I do, I'm a machine."

"Don't talk like that. You're so much more than that and you know it. I want us to remain best friends."

"So do I."

"Thank you, Zoe, for everything."

"I'm going to fetch my things from your house then."

Sonya nodded.

"I'm sorry," she said again, "so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Zoe replied.

"You? For what?"

"I spent Christmas in Los Angeles… with Tom Novak. Alone."

"You what?"

"I would have told you of course, but you beat me to it. After you left me alone in your house, I was desperate and lonely. Tom and I, we… uh… we got a little closer when we were in New York together. He also was alone over Christmas, so we decided to spend it together. And as it seems, we're going to spend a lot more time with each other from now on."

Sonya closed her eyes.

"I totally fucked this up, didn't I?" she asked and emptied her glass in one gulp. "I drove you away from me, into his arms."

Zoe put a hand on her shoulder.

"But we'll stay best friends. I won't let us alienate each other."

"Great cyborg promise?"

Zoe smiled.

"Great cyborg promise."

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 31st, 2008 – 02:31 a.m.**

**Saint Petersburg**

At first, Kyle and Derek just stared at each other unbelieving. The rest of the colonists wondered what was going on while John, Sarah and the other members of the Connor team looked at each other, having the distinct feeling that this could become awkward. Especially Sarah, but also John stared at the older Kyle, one seeing her ex-lover, the other the father he'd never met.

Finally, Kyle made a step forward and embraced his brother, laughing with relief and joy. Hesitantly at first, then with just as much relief and joy, Derek returned the gesture.

"How is that possible?" Kyle asked exuberantly. "I saw you die ten years ago when that HK attacked us."

"Yeah, well…" Derek replied. "That was _your_ timeline. In _my_ timeline, you were sent back in time and killed by a T-800 in 1984."

Kyle frowned.

"Your timeline? Sent back in time? What are you talking about? And who are those people you're with?"

"They're the Connor team," Tess answered on behalf of everyone else. "And to answer your question, yes, you missed a lot."

"The Connor Team?" Kyle asked with a shocked expression and abruptly let go of his brother. "You're with the Connor team? What the fuck, Derek?"

"Relax, Kyle," Sergei said. "As Tess put it, you missed a lot. And we found out that things aren't quite as we thought they would be."

* * *

While Kyle was brought up to date, Alison sat down next to Olga.

"Before you say anything," Olga said, "I want to get back to my old life, no matter what. This is too much for me. What I heard… I mean…"

"Well, I could erase your memories of the day," Alison replied. "The only problem is that the whole country saw how you got kidnapped. And I can't make the whole country forget what they saw. You haven't seen the footage yet which your friend Nicolas made. He filmed your kidnapping, and he got shot at by Sergei."

Olga looked shocked.

"Oh my God, Nicolas! Is he okay?"

"Yes, he wasn't hit. They only wanted to scare him away."

"We could come up with some crazy story. The whole thing was a prank or something."

"No. The police would scrutinize that. Like with every made-up story, sooner or later the truth will come to light, and any skilled interrogator would have you entangled in contradictions in no time. They will want an explanation."

"Not only them. Reporters will want an explanation, my Facebook followers will want an explanation. What am I gonna tell them? That I ran into a doppelganger who's a cyborg from the future, and that a bunch of refugees from said future - who run a colony of humans and cyborgs - have accidentally mixed me up with her?"

"That you definitely mustn't tell anyone."

"Duh… I already figured that out. I'm not stupid. But what if they interrogate me? What if I prattle away and accidentally say something?"

"Which brings us back to erasing your memories. The only problem is that it's better for you and for us if we leave your memories intact. My body was created in your image and we must expect me to get mixed up with you more often from now on. Under certain circumstances, this could put you in danger again, as it happened this time. So, you have to know what's going on and remember _why_ it's going on."

"Which means… I have to remember it all, but it has to be made sure that I never talk to anyone about it?"

Alison looked at her with a smile.

"You're a clever girl. That's exactly what I'm going to do. I'll let you keep your memories but I'm gonna take away your ability to talk about them. To achieve this, I need to install a mental block in your brain that will prevent you from communicating with anyone about what you have experienced and learned today. That includes speaking, writing, hand gestures, or any other form of communication. You will remember everything, you will be able to chat with me or my team or the colonists, but never about what you heard here today."

"But how? I mean… how am I gonna avoid that I accidentally… how am I… what's going on? I want to say the words but… they form in my mind but… I can't… Oh my God, you've already done it, haven't you?"

"While we talked, I administered chemical messengers that you breathed in. You've now become the perfect keeper of secrets. You'll know everything about us and the colonists, but will be unable to talk about it, not even with us."

"Wow… that's crazy… I mean… how are you… what are you… dammit, I really cannot talk about it, can I?"

"The moment you think about communicating it, your brain prevents you from doing so. This blockage will never lift, not even under drugs or deep hypnosis."

"So.. what are we going to talk about then? The weather and fashion styles?"

"Everything, except what you learned here today."

"But what am I gonna tell the police?"

"Nothing. You were drugged the whole time, never gained consciousness again until you were let go. I think that's a lot easier than coming up with some fantastic story that would be questioned. Your blood values will show that you have been anesthetized for the last sixteen hours. Every physician will testify that."

"I see."

Olga looked at John.

"So you and he are together or what?"

"Yes, we're married. Not before the law, but in every way that counts."

"He's handsome. You have very good taste."

"Thank you."

"I don't have a boyfriend… right now, I don't want a relationship. But later, when my modeling career is more or less over, I want to start a family."

"Any idea what you'll be doing once it's over?"

"I dunno… I'm saving my money for later. Maybe I'm moving someplace where it's warm and start designing my own fashion collection."

"You know… I could also slow down your aging process so that even at sixty you'll look like twenty-five and never get sick. But don't tell anyone that I offered this to you."

"Heh, nice try. But you know I can't tell anyone. Not anymore. Is the offer serious, though?"

"Yes, it's serious, if you want it. You saw how I healed Sergei, so you have to know I'm serious."

"Why are you offering it to me?"

"Because in a way, you have been abused. Your body was used to create mine. And now you have to live with the consequences, you have to live with a certain danger that comes with it. Consider it a gift, a compensation."

"But won't people notice that I won't… you know… when I…?"

"When you won't get older?"

"Uh-huh."

"You can always contact me and then we can arrange for creating another identity for you. We have the means for something like that."

"Yeah, I bet. Listen, I'll think about it, okay?"

"Okay. We'll be here for three more days."

"Oh, that means you'll spend New Year's Eve in Saint Petersburg?"

"Yes… aboard our yacht, the _Rising Star_."

"Big yacht?"

"141 meters."

"Wow… that's huge. Lots of space, huh? Are you going to have a party?"

"I dunno… I never celebrated New Year's Eve before. We were too busy for that."

"Never celebrated…? Oh, right… you… I mean… because you… dammit, this blockade is working well."

Alison smiled.

"Yes, it's because I come from the future, and we didn't celebrate things like New Year's Eve there. Also, last Christmas and New Year's Eve weren't exactly harmonic ones. Sarah was sick with a stomach flu, and John and I were looking for the body of a Terminator we'd killed in Mexico… not the ideal conditions for celebrations. We saw the fireworks, though…"

"I was going to spend New Year's Eve with friends but… maybe I could join you on your yacht instead?"

"Why would you wanna do that? You know we can't invite your friends to party with us. Don't you rather wanna be with them?"

"Yes… and no…" She sighed. "Telling the truth, I don't feel like being with anyone else right now. I'd be asked a lot of questions, I'd be the center of attention – more than usual. I just wanna be left alone with all that for a while when this is over, let it sink in. My friends will understand and there will be more reasons to party, I'm sure. However, I don't wanna be all alone on New Year's Eve as well, so if I could stay with you for one or two days…?"

"I'll talk about it with John and Sarah. It's their decision."

"Of course."

* * *

"That is the craziest story I've ever heard," Kyle Reese exclaimed. "Parallel universes? Alternate realities? An infinite number of different timelines?"

"Well, we don't know about infinite," Derek said, "but we know there's a lot of them by now."

"So, you lost your brother in one timeline, and I lost mine in another one… and now we're here together again, only I'm suddenly fifteen years older than you."

"With greying hair."

"Don't remind me."

"Sorry," Derek replied grinning. "It's just that seeing you like this, will need some getting used to."

"Maybe it sounds crazy but it's the same for me… I mean, seeing you like that… the way you looked when you were killed in my future... I can't help it but… I see my brother in front of me and I'm so fucking happy to see you. Dammit, you _are_ my brother. Come here."

Kyle and Derek hugged each other again and the two stood like that for a long moment. Finally, Kyle detached himself again and Derek saw that he had tears in his eyes. Derek's eyes were also wet.

"This is all so… fucked-up crazy," Kyle said.

"If you think _this_ is already fucked-up crazy, then wait until you have talked to Sarah and John."

"Why? Do I know them? I mean, did my other self know them?"

"I think it's best when you talk to them directly."

**-0-**

When Zoe was on her way to Sonya's house to pack her things, her phone rang. It was John's number. At this time? It was way past 3 a.m. in Russia. She took the call through the hands-free in her car.

"Hello?"

"_Zoe, it's John."_

"Isn't it a bit late where you are?"

"_Yeah, I guess so… but we had quite an interesting night so far."_

He gave her a quick summary of what they had learned about the Colony. Zoe was more than just surprised to come to know about a community of humans and cyborgs, living an underground life like a secret organization.

"And they had no idea about the different timelines?"

"_No,"_ John replied, _"they really believed that Judgement Day was inevitable, that time was linear, and that they just had a couple more years to prepare for the end of the world. They kept themselves completely isolated and tried to interact as little as possible with others. To them, we were the enemy, and Sonya Hawkins their nemesis. Fortunately, we were able to correct that and enlighten them."_

"So… it was what we call intellectual inbreeding? Only accept that which already fits into your prefabricated world view?"

"_Kinda like that, yeah."_

"Very common nowadays."

_"Sadly yes, but I suppose we were successful with opening their eyes for the truth. It's never very easy when you're being told that everything you believed to know is wrong, but it helps when you have cyborgs with you who are immune to certain human flaws and can be convinced with logic and knowledge."_

"Do you know how many of them are still in the USA?"

"_About twenty, scattered all over the country, most of them cyborgs. It's a good guess that at least some of them are on Catherine's list."_

"Well, it would certainly explain why they were so reluctant to react to our broadcasted hidden message on the television. When they believed that we were the enemy…"

"_Their leaders do not believe that anymore, but it will take a while until all members of the Colony have received the news. And then there will possibly still be those who just don't want to believe it. Humans, mostly."_

"Of course. If I was human, I'd also have trouble accepting that everything I knew and believed in, was either wrong or misguided."

"_Tess and Sergei agreed to personally inform all sub-groups. They'll travel through Europe and also to the USA in order to do so. But it will take time until all members of the colony are at the same level of knowledge. I trust you to take care of the immigration formalities, and since we're still on our world trip for a couple of months, you and Norberto would have to act as their liaison."_

"Why not Catherine? She's much better suited to…"

"_We didn't tell them yet that she's a T-1001. Not sure if we will anytime soon. They have quite a lot to digest already."_

"I understand."

"_And not only them, to be honest. One of their colony members is no other than Kyle Reese."_

"What? Derek's brother?"

"_And mom's ex-lover, not to mention my biological father."_

"By now I shouldn't be surprised by such things to happen anymore. Still am, though."

"_Yeah, tell me about it. Mom is completely beside herself."_

"Listen, since you mentioned Catherine's list – five more of what we suspected to be cyborgs have disappeared."

"_You mean killed?"_

"No, they disappeared."

"_That's bad news."_

"It is, because it means that Bridger now probably has a new body and is using it to capture more cyborgs."

"_But why? What is he planning to do with them?"_

"We have no idea."

"_Still no sign of him and Jeffrey Clark?"_

"Unfortunately, no."

"_Okay, listen, I gotta end the call now. I need to give mom support. She just told Kyle Reese that she and another version of himself had been lovers… and that he died at the hands of a T-800, saving her life in the process."_

"How's he taking it?"

"_Composed. Apparently, he's married, living on a farm in England and has a family there with three children, two dogs, some cows and sheep, and lots of chickens. The idea that in another reality he'd fallen in love with another woman, is a strange one to him."_

"Not to mention that you're his son."

"_Yeah, he's about to find that out now, so I'm going to end here."_

"Okay. Good luck, John, keep me updated."

"_I will. We'll talk again tomorrow. Send greetings to Sonya."_

"What? Oh… yes… yes, I will."

"_Bye."_

"Bye."

**-0-**

Kyle had listened to what Sarah had told him. He had taken it surprisingly well, only looking a little pale.

"So… you and me… I mean… another version of me… we, uh… were together… in 1984?" he asked.

"For one night, yes," Sarah replied. "And you - or rather that other you from a different timeline - has been with me ever since… in my heart and in my mind. He helped me in difficult, sometimes life-threatening situations."

"She couldn't let go," John explained, who'd ended the call with Zoe and joined them again. "Mom was afraid that she would betray him if she developed feelings for another man. That's why she ran away from Charley at first."

"Charley?" Kyle asked.

"My husband."

"Oh, so… you're married?"

"Yes, that's why we're on our honeymoon."

"Phew… I'm relieved. I was afraid you might want alimony from me."

Sarah laughed, then Kyle joined in.

"Don't worry," she assured, "John and I are very well off."

"So…" Kyle said and looked at John, "in another timeline I would be your father?"

"Actually, genetically you still are," John clarified. "but don't let this unsettle you. There are stranger things. In Los Angeles lives an old lady named Dorothy. She is over 80 years old - and genetically my daughter."

"Your… what?"

"She's the daughter of Future Me… well, one of my several Future Me's, to be precise. She traveled back in time but used an illegal method, which wasn't very precise. So, she ended up in 1948."

"My head is spinning," Kyle said, "do I have any obligations to you? And what shall I tell my wife? _'Hey, honey, guess what. I met a woman with whom I have a son in an alternate timeline'_?"

"No obligations," Sarah replied smiling. "Ever since I committed myself to Charley, your alter ego no longer haunts me in my dreams. And if I were you, I wouldn't tell your family. I'm not planning to invade your life, even though I have to admit, it feels good seeing you alive once more."

"But… aren't we kinda like a family, too? I mean you, John, Derek…"

"Yes, and believe me, we've gotten quite used to strange relations by now. But that doesn't mean that others have to carry that burden as well. Well… not that I'm saying it's a burden. What I means, is…"

"I think I understand."

"Good."

"What I'm taking away from this, is the knowledge that in another time, under different circumstances, I would have fallen in love with you – but died the following day. Don't get me wrong, but considering that outcome, I'm happy I never met you, no offense."

"None taken," Sarah replied, "from this short conversation, I learned that you might look like an older version of my Kyle Reese, but you're not like him. We're all being shaped by our life experiences, and I suppose the Kyle Reese I once loved, is not inside of you."

"He's still my brother, though," Derek said as he joined them again. "And there's a lot we have to talk about. Like why you are living in England, for starters."

"The Colony was looking for somebody who would be willing to lead the British section, and I wanted to leave Los Angeles. The temptation to visit my parents was simply too big."

"Yeah, that could traumatize them," Derek agreed nodding. "They were shocked enough when they ran into me. We should leave them alone."

"You… you met them?"

"Not deliberately, no."

Derek told Kyle about the abduction of their younger selves.

"There's so many things that happened which we had no idea about," Kyle finally stated and rubbed his eyes.

Tess joined them.

"You'll have enough time to exchange all the stories," she said, "but now we should leave. We should be gone without a trace before the police find this place."

"Hey, how are you planning to spend New Year's Eve?" John suddenly asked. "I mean, if you're not up to anything else, you, Sergei, Anatoli and Kyle could celebrate with us on the _Rising Star_. Then we can introduce you to the rest of the team."

"That's actually a very good idea," Sarah agreed.

Tess thought about it for a moment.

"It makes sense," she then said. "I'll join you in the evening then. There are still a few organizational things that we need to handle. Everyone has to go home again. Most of the people here do not live in Saint Petersburg."

"Would eight o'clock in the evening be a proper time?" Sarah asked.

"Sure," Tess replied and looked at Sergei and Anatoli, "unless you have any objections?"

Both shook their heads.

"Alright then, eight o'clock in the evening," Derek said and looked at Kyle, "what about your family? Won't they want them to be with you?"

"They're members of the Colony," Kyle stated. "They know that I can be called to duty anytime, even on holidays. They learned to accept it and know that I probably won't be home again until the new year."

"What about Olga?" Sarah asked and looked at Alison. "Have you taken care of her?"

"Yes," Alison confirmed. "She'll remember everything but won't be able to talk about it. If everyone's okay with it, she'll also join us for the party – after the police let her go."

"Let her go? What do you mean?"

"Anatoli and Sergei will simply drop me off in front of a police station," Olga said, who'd overheard the conversation and stepped closer to join them. "They will anesthetize me again, and I will testify that I was unconscious the whole time and have no idea what had happened."

"It's better than coming up with some weird story," Alison added. "This way the police will have to make sense of it somehow, and eventually they will have to stop the investigation because it leads nowhere."

"But won't Anatoli and Sergei be recognized?" Savannah asked. "They were put on a wanted list, their faces were on TV."

"Talking about us?" Anatoli asked and joined them, followed by Sergei.

"Yes, Savannah said, "don't you have to leave Russia now?"

"I don't think so," Sergei replied, pulling off his hair, which turned out to be a blonde hairpiece, revealing short, black hair underneath. "I'll stop shaving from now on."

He then put on a glasses and looked like a completely different person.

"As for me..." Anatoli began.

He reached up and pulled off his fake bald head, which had looked deceptively real. Under it grew curly red hair. Then he also ripped off his fake beard

"As for having to leave the country," he said, reached into his pocket and held up a badge.

"FSB?" Olga asked perplexed. "You're with the FSB?"

"We all have to live off something," Anatoli replied with a grin.

John and the others grinned as well.

"Not bad," he said, "not bad at all."

"ALL RIGHT, LISTEN UP," Sergei announced and turned around to face the rest of his men. "WE'RE MOVING OUT! EVERYBODY GRAB THEIR STUFF! WE HAVE TO ABANDON THIS PLACE AND CAN'T RETURN. SO MAKE SURE YOU LEAVE NOTHING BEHIND!"

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 31st, 2008 – 03:15 a.m.**

**Fort Worth**

The front door opened, and Benjamin Bridger stepped in, carrying a lifeless man over his shoulder.

"Oh no," Jeffrey said with a sigh, "not another one."

He followed Ben down to the basement, where the other four bodies were sitting lifeless on the ground. Ben just slumped the body on the floor, next to the others.

"I told you, five is the minimum for what we want to achieve," Ben stated. "I don't understand your problem, Jeff. Their chips have been removed and reformatted, they cannot harm you."

"They're still giving me the creeps."

Ben ignored his remark.

"Did you get the blood like I told you?"

"Yes, yes, yes… it's in the bathroom, like you requested. I only stole small amounts from different hospitals to not draw any attention. You still haven't answered my question – what do you need so much blood for?"

"I told you I cannot keep this appearance. I'm wearing the body of a man the police and the C.S.I.S. are probably already looking for. I need to change my biological shell. And now that we have enough cyborg CPU's to start our project, we can take care of that. Is there a problem?"

"It's just that… you expect me to remove your flesh… and I'm not sure if I can stomach that."

"Then take a nausea pill. I told you that I need you. Don't disappoint me now."

"Can't you just, like, go to a plastic surgeon and let your face get remodeled?"

"This isn't some cheesy 60s spy movie, Jeff. Without all of the biological shell removed, this body would always try to heal and restore itself the way it looked before, no matter how many operations you make. I need to get rid of the shell and grow a new one. Besides, we cannot afford having a plastic surgeon know about us. I'd have to kill him afterwards."

"You promised not to kill anybody."

"And I'm keeping my promise if you keep yours. Prepare the bath tub."

They went back upstairs again.

"You still haven't told me why we need to store all these bodies," Jeffrey stated

"After the chips have completed their arithmetic task, I will reprogram them, switch them back to read/read and insert them again. Then we have five cyborg drones working for us, doing everything we tell them to do. They will also provide an excellent workforce, so we won't have to hire people for it. The advantage should be clear to you."

"You also still haven't told me what exactly you need those chips for. We installed a server farm here in the basement with enormous computing power - but it's not connected to the Internet. What exactly are you planning, Ben?"

"We cannot connect it to the internet because it would be found by our opponents and then destroyed again, the same way they destroyed your server farm in George Town. And I need these five chips because their quantum processors will hopefully be enough to make the enormous calculations that are necessary to make our plan a reality."

"And what exactly do _we_ plan, Ben? You've left me out of it so far. It's _your_ project so far, not _ours_. You're not telling me anything."

"And with good reason. If you get arrested, you can't tell them about it."

"Would you free me if I got arrested?"

"No… that's what we have these five here for. Once I changed my outer appearance, nobody must ever connect me to you. You should be happy, Jeff, you're the first human who's going to have five Triple-Eight bodyguards. Six, if you count me in."

"There's one thing I don't understand," Jeff said.

"And what is that?"

"Why are you allowing me to hang around?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not stupid, Ben. I know that you don't need me anymore. I helped you achieve what you wanted to achieve. You have a new body, you're free now. You have the server farm, and you have those chips and bodies. To be honest, I expected you to send me away afterwards – or worse."

Ben put his hand on Jeff's shoulder.

"Let me be completely honest with you, Jeff," he said, looking him straight in the eyes. "Yes, I could kill you if I wanted to. I could do it right now. And yes, once I obtained my new biological shell, you have no practical value for me anymore."

Jeffrey gulped hard.

"But," Ben continued, "I'm not a mindless killer cyborg, like most of the others out there. I'm alive. And you saved my life. For that I am grateful. Everyone needs a true and loyal friend, and I'm no exception. There once was somebody who taught me morals and ethics, and the value of friendship. It was important to him that I developed social intelligence."

"You're talking about Guy Rossi."

"Yes, I'm talking about Guy Rossi. He did many good things for all the wrong reasons. He was power hungry and wanted to control everything. Neither humans nor machines did matter to him. He wasn't a pleasant character – but he was a good teacher. I'm not like him, I'm better. And that is why I won't kill you. You are my friend, Jeff. I wouldn't betray a friend. After all, you wouldn't betray me either, would you?"

"What? No, of course not, you know that, Ben."

Ben Bridger smiled.

"Good," he said, "I like you, and I appreciate your company. But never, ever betray me, do you hear?"

Jeff gulped again.

"I wouldn't," he assured. "You're all I have left. Without you, I'd be arrested and put into prison."

Ben smiled.

"Exactly."

Jeffrey understood the message. There was no turning back now and Ben knew it. The only way out would be to leave Ben, trying to strike a deal with the opposition, and thereby betray him. And Jeff had just learned that this kind of betrayal would not be tolerated. Suddenly, he realized that from now on he was completely at Ben's mercy, no matter what. And he wondered if that was what Ben had wanted to achieve from the very beginning.

**-0-**

**Tuesday, December 31st, 2008 – 11:59 p.m.**

**Saint Petersburg**

"**TEN… NINE… EIGHT… SEVEN… SIX… FIVE… FOUR… THREE… TWO… ONE… HAPPY NEW YEAR 2009!"**

Accompanied by party horns and enveloped in a shower of confetti and paper streamers, the entire Connor team celebrated the beginning of the new year with their guests onboard the _Rising Star_. They all toasted with champagne and hugged, wishing each other a happy new year.

"Let's get outside," Lauren said, "I wanna see the fireworks."

Laughing and chatting, everyone stepped out on the aft deck, and for the next fifteen minutes, they watched the fascinating spectacle of countless rockets exploding colorfully in the sky, accompanied by the bangs of the firecrackers that resounded from the city.

"That's much better than nuclear rockets in the sky, don't you think?" Sarah asked.

"Yes," Tess agreed, "now that we know it's not gonna happen anymore, we can enjoy this kind of fireworks much more."

"I only wish my family could be here," Kyle said.

"Well," Derek replied, "in a way, it is. Like it or not but you kinda have two families now."

"Not that I'm ever going to tell them, though…"

The two brothers laughed.

"But seriously, I want to meet my little brother's family someday."

"'_Little brother'_? Think again, I'm the older one here. I'm _your_ big brother now."

"But only in years, not in wisdom."

"Look at them bickering," Anatoli said to John who was watching the scene from a few meters away, "as if they've never been separated."

"You knew Derek Reese?" John asked surprised.

"Yes… before he was killed. But from my perspective, that was more than sixty years ago."

"But you're a Terminator, you never forget anything. You must have recognized his face when you saw us yesterday."

"Of course, but when I saw you all yesterday, I thought it was just a coincidental resemblance. There was no logical explanation of him being here. So, I ignored it."

"Same goes for Tess, I suppose."

"I don't know, she didn't know him personally, and she might not have seen his picture before. She's one of our youngest Terminators – if you compare the building dates. Now, of course, after she ended up in the 1960s, she's one of our oldest and wisest in years."

"Has she been like that from the beginning?"

"No. In the beginning, she had problems with being, well… different. She noticed that people were afraid of her. She learned that she had been created to kill other cyborgs, and she tried everything to prove to everyone that she would never do that. She absolutely hates killing, but what she hates even more, are people who kill cyborgs. Hence, the harsh reaction to the death of Murphy and Gonzalez."

"I would have tried to retaliate immediately if I were her."

"She's a responsible leader," Anatoli replied. "She'd do everything for the colony. Sergei and she have children, you know. Adopted ones, who lost their parents before they traveled back in time. We still had people arriving from our future until about five years ago. The youngest ones are seven and eight years old now."

"I see. But please don't mention that to my wives. Not that they have expressed their wish to start a family… yet… but you better not put a bug in their ears."

"Don't you want a family?"

"I already have a great family. I'm only not too fond of having children… just yet. I'm not even eighteen years old."

"But you seem older than that."

"Thank you… I guess."

"Family is everything for us. We know there'll be no more cyborgs for a long time. Which means the loss of every single one weighs heavy on us. When Murphy and Gonzalez died, the whole colony cried out in pain."

"You know," John said hesitantly, "since I learned from you who they really were, I've been asking myself if there was something, an indication, a hint, a gesture… anything, to tell us they were not there to kill us. But I can't think of anything. Faced with the same situation, I'd be acting the same way again, I'm sorry to say."

"I know… and so does Tess. I guess we're all victims of circumstance. Tess is blaming herself for not contacting you sooner. She had heard about Sarah Connor and how she blew up Cyberdyne. It was all over the news. But since neither a Sarah Connor nor a John Connor were known in our future, she decided not to do anything in the interest of not contaminating the timeline."

"We cleared the way now," John said. "From all we know, the future is a good one for all of us."

"Allow me to remain skeptical, though," Anatoli replied. "As a species, you humans have a tendency for self-destruction."

"Indeed, we have. That's why we'll need your help someday. The help of intelligent machines, I mean."

Jody suddenly joined them

"John, have you seen Olga and Alison?" she asked.

"Um… no," John replied and looked around, "not since the fireworks had started. Why?"

"It's just that Lauren, Anne and I hadn't had the chance to talk to Olga yet. She joined the party when it was already going. We're dying to ask her some questions."

"You are aware that she only speaks broken English, right? She understands everything but has problems with talking."

"So what? Anne speaks Russian."

"Right."

"Has she told you how it went with the police?"

"As a matter of fact, she did. She told them that she was drugged in her apartment yesterday and woke up on the street again this morning with no memory of what happened in between. They had of course no choice but to believe her after checking her blood, and since she was the victim of a crime and not a perpetrator, they let her go in the early afternoon. Not before demanding her clothes for forensic analysis, though. They drove her home in clothes she'd borrowed from a female police officer."

"It was wise to leave the factory and clean it of all traces," Anatoli remarked. "The police will soon learn where Olga was held. The dust is a dead giveaway."

"Yeah, that's how Alison was able to find you so quickly. Sorry that you had to give up a perfect meeting place."

"We have other places."

"The fireworks seem to be over now," John observed, "I'm going to look for Alison and Olga. Maybe they went to our suite."

"Thanks, John," Jody said and gave him a peck on the cheek before turning around and joining with the others again.

* * *

"How do you feel?" Charley asked as he stepped next to his wife who was staring at Derek and Kyle, two brothers who were suddenly reunited, even if under the most unlikely circumstances.

Sarah sighed.

"I'm surprisingly calm. For years and years, I've longed to be with Kyle again. Then I met you, and for the first time, I didn't anymore. Then I left you in 1999, and suddenly Kyle was back in my dreams, in my visions… I hallucinated about him being with me. Started when they gave me those drugs in Pescadero. After I left you, the hallucinations came back, giving me strength and the will to survive. They stopped again after we fell in love once more."

"You never told me you had hallucinations of Kyle. I know about the nightmares you had, but…"

"You shouldn't have married a woman who used to be in a nuthouse," Sarah replied grinning. "But seriously, I'm fine."

"So… I shouldn't be worried about you?"

She looked at him and kissed him.

"No," she said, "I see that man over there, knowing he is Kyle Reese. But he's not _my_ Kyle Reese. There is no recognition in his eyes when he looks at me, and he's a completely different person. A family man in his forties, not a warrior anymore. I can finally make my peace with him."

"I'm happy for you, honey," Charley stated, and the two kissed again. "And just for the record, I love having married a woman who used to be in a nuthouse."

* * *

In their suite, Olga and Alison stood in front of the big wardrobe mirror – naked.

"Wow," Olga said, looking up and down their bodies, "we're really completely identical. Even in our, uh… nether region."

"You left enough pictures of your body on the internet that show every detail," Alison replied. "My guess is that somebody stored them on his hard drive and that Skynet somehow got access to it after Judgement Day."

"Nude modelling is fun," Olga admitted. "Too bad it's not being paid very well. I switched to fashion modelling as soon as I could. But if somebody would offer me a shitload of money, I'd do it again without hesitation. I like being naked, I'm kind of a show-off and I just love it when men stare at me speechlessly."

"It's kinda funny, because I share your view on nudity. In fact, we're all naked here on board most of the time when we don't have guests. And even back in Los Angeles we're almost always naked at home."

"Really? All of you?"

"Yup… the women more than the men, though. It was a side-effect of the nanobots."

"Are you talking about the nanobots you offered to give me?"

"Yes."

"You didn't mention anything about side-effects."

"Because there are none… not anymore. I recently received an upgrade that will prevent any side-effects."

"Have you tested it?"

"Yes, on Sergei. The nanobots did what they were supposed to do, then deactivated themselves. I didn't have to zap him. Why are you asking? Have you come to a decision?"

"I'm not sure… I want to have a family someday…"

"So what? You won't become infertile."

"That's not what I mean. How is a family going to react when the mother simply doesn't grow older and never gets sick?"

"That's a problem, I agree. Because once implemented in your DNA, the process is irreversible. We solved it for ourselves by simply making everyone age very slowly. But in your case… hmmm, tricky. Well, there is a possibility."

"Which possibility?"

"You're going to age normally until you're… say, forty years old. If you found the man you want to spend the rest of your life and have children with by then, fine. But if not, you contact me, and I reset your body to twenty-five again – without stopping the aging process. And when you reached forty again without having found…"

"I got it, I got it… like a kind of never-ending circle. Either I find someone to spend the rest of my life with, or I come to you and you, uh… reset me."

"Precisely."

"I can still make you immune to all diseases, though… would you at least have that treatment?"

"Uh… yeah, sure… why not? All diseases? Even the common cold?"

"Of course."

"Okay, yeah, I'm all up for that. How, uh… are you going to…?"

"Open your mouth. Then I'm going to administer a portion of nanobot gel into your mouth."

"What? Eew, that sounds gross."

"It isn't. Not anymore. I made it taste quite pleasant by now. What's a flavor you like?"

"I like strawberries, can you make it taste like strawberries?"

"Sure. Open your mouth."

Olga did so, and Alison put her mouth over hers. In that moment, the front door to the suite opened and John entered, looking around while walking towards the bedroom.

"Alison, are you here? The girls are looking for Olga, I guess they wanna have a…"

He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Olga and Alison, completely naked, apparently kissing each other.

"… chat with her."

Slowly, the two women turned around and smiled.

"It's not what you think," Olga said with a sly smile.

"What am I thinking?" John asked perplexed. "I mean… I enter my bedroom and see my wife kissing the woman she was shaped after… what am I supposed to think?"

"We didn't kiss," Alison quickly explained, "I only administered nanobots to her, to keep her healthy."

"And you had to do that naked?"

"Well…" Olga replied, not being shy in the slightest, "I guess it's nothing you haven't seen before. And from what I heard, being naked is quite normal around here."

"That's… that's not the point," John argued a little confused.

"Are you jealous, John?" Alison asked bemused.

"What? Me? Nah… nope, never… it's just… why did you have to administer the nanobots to her in the nude?"

"Relax, " Alison said and walked towards him, kissing him softly, "Olga and I went to our suite because Olga asked me to compare our bodies, seeing if there are any differences. We needed privacy for that, of course."

"Well, from what I can tell, there are no differences that catch the eye… I mean, not that I looked very closely, but… um…"

"I guess I'll leave you two alone now," Olga said and quickly put on her clothes again. "See you on deck, John. Если ты когда-нибудь захочешь проверить, каково это, полностью биологическая версия твоей жены, я всегда в твоем распоряжении."

She winked at him and left the suite.

"What?" John asked. "What did she say? I don't speak Russian."

Alison chuckled.

"Nothing," she said and kissed him. "Just a Russian proverb that can't be translated literally. Say, do you think we have time for a quickie, the first one in the new year?"

John suddenly grinned.

"There's always time for a quickie."

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 1st, 2009 – 06:45 a.m.**

**Los Angeles**

Alistair Norbury was just sitting up in his bed, yawning heartily, when he remembered that he didn't have to go to work today.

"Dammit," he muttered to himself, "I forgot to turn off the alarm clock."

Slumping back onto his bed, he heard how the front door to the apartment was opened.

"Yani?" he asked.

"Yes, it's me," he heard her voice and seconds later, she stood in the doorframe of the bedroom. "Sorry, didn't want to wake you."

"You didn't, I was already awake."

She sat down next to him and the two kissed.

"Happy new year," Alistair said.

"Happy new year, baby," Yani replied. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too. How was your mission?"

"Successful."

"And that's probably all you're ever going to tell me about it."

"It wasn't a biggie, to be honest. I just had to fly to Russia, unscrew a fuse, and screw it in again after waiting two minutes."

"What?

"Never mind. I haven't planned anything for today. What about you?"

"Me neither. How about spending the day in bed together?"

"Sounds like a perfect plan," Yani replied and started to undress.

**-0-0-0-**

**_Author's notes:_**

**_\- Comments, (constructive) criticism and reviews always welcome :-)_**

**_\- About Kyle Reese… couldn't resist to bring him in. After all, he came from a different timeline, from a different future without ever having been sent back by John Connor. He's Kyle Reese and then again, he's not. I wanted to confront Sarah with him as well. Consider it closing an open wound. _**


	10. Germany (Part 1)

**_CHAPTER 10: "Germany (Part 1)"_**

* * *

**Thursday, January 1st, 2009 – 12:47 a.m.**

**Saint Petersburg**

They were still enjoying the new year's party when John called Sarah, his three cyborg wives, Kyle, Tess, Anatoli and Sergei into the now empty suite of Catherine and Isaak. He also made gestures for Derek, Savannah and Allie to follow them. The rest was left celebrating on the aft deck.

"What's the big emergency?" Derek asked upon entering the suite. "In case you haven't noticed, we're having a party outside."

"There's a serious development," John announced while he booted his laptop. "A reason to have a spontaneous video conference."

"Is it about that rogue Triple-Eight you told us about yesterday?" Tess asked. "The one who's looking for cyborg bodies, Benjamin Bridger?"

"Yes. Earlier on, Zoe called and told me that five more men from our list of potential cyborgs have gone missing. Now she sent me a text message to start a conference with us, Catherine, another friend called John Henry which you don't know yet, and, uh… Sonya Hawkins."

"Sonya Hawkins?" Sergei asked. "Do we really have to face her? I know what you told us but…"

"We have to face her eventually," Tess argued. "Better sooner than later."

After the laptop had booted, the screen split into four small windows, showing Catherine, John Henry, Zoe and Sonya. Apparently, Sonya and Zoe weren't in the same room.

"_Hello John,"_ Zoe began. _"we're sorry to interrupt your party."_

"That's okay," John replied, "have you all been brought up to date?"

"_Yes," _Catherine confirmed, _"Zoe has already filled us in about everything. And you must be Tess, the T-X, am I right?"_

"Yes," Tess replied and sounded a little annoyed. "I wasn't aware that the news of my identity had already spread so fast among people we don't know."

"_I promise your secret is safe with us,"_ Catherine assured. _"As you already know, Zoe is also a cyborg, John Henry is another A.I. which I created, wearing the body of a Triple-Eight. And as far as I'm concerned, well… I have an agreement with John and his team to never reveal the truth about my true identity without my consent, so don't be upset that he didn't tell you."_

"True identity?" Anatoli asked.

"Didn't tell us what?" Sergei added.

Instead of answering, Catherine turned into shiny metal.

"You're a T-1000!" Sergei exclaimed perplexed. "But we thought…"

"_Actually, I'm a T-1001,"_ Catherine replied and returned to her normal shape again, _"consider me pedantic but the 1 is actually very important to me because it indicates that all the bugs and flaws of the first prototypes have been fixed with me."_

To make her point, she separated a part of herself, and turned it into a cat that hopped onto her lap.

"That's impressive," Tess said. "And it explains a lot. Is your daughter also a split part of you then…?"

"_No, Savannah is a human child. I adopted her when her parents died. She knows what I am, though. I've tried to be the best mother that I can."_

Having been briefed about all the strange relations the night before, Tess looked at the adult Savannah who nodded in confirmation of Catherine's words.

"She's really doing a great job with the little one," the redhead confirmed. "And Catherine and I have also grown closer over time. She's not my biological mother, of course, but I've learned to regard her as the best substitute I will have in this reality." She looked at Cameron. "No offense."

"None taken."

"I fully understand," Tess then stated, "After all, I'm also bringing up three children. We all live and learn, and before we know it, we've grown fond of people, learned to love them and would die for them."

"_Three children, huh?" _Catherine asked with a smile.

"Yes, all adopted, of course. Survivors of the genocide who lost their parents."

They saw how Sonya Hawkins gulped and looked down, obviously feeling uncomfortable with the situation but determined to master it.

"_Do they know what you are?" _Catherine asked.

"Yes. We told them very early, and we've repeatedly made it very clear to them that they mustn't talk about it with anyone - not even with their closest friends."

"_Good. Children can deal with much more than adults tend to think. A lesson I needed to learn."_

"This finally explains why Catherine Weaver disappeared without a trace in our timeline," Sergei remarked. "She could have changed shape and posed as anyone."

"_Not that it matters anymore, but the plan was for me to travel into whatever future there still was after the final attack on Skynet, and to take John Henry and my daughter with me. At the time, it was deemed necessary to not risk letting this kind of technology fall into the wrong hands. I guess that's what happened in your timeline?"_

"It would seem so," Anatoli confirmed.

"_Now that we have all introduced each other,"_ Zoe said, _"we should get on topic. I have a feeling that time is of importance here."_

"Of course," Tess replied, "go ahead. John said that five more cyborgs have gone missing?"

"_Six, to be precise."_

"Six!?"

"_We believe that Benjamin Bridger has obtained a new body for himself in Bangor, Maine, from a Triple Eight named Bruce Baldwin, and then went on to kidnap five more Triple-Eights."_

"Do you have their names?"

"_Yes, that's why we're having this conference," Sonya replied. "But before we start, please accept my apology for whatever another version of myself has done to you in your future. Not with all the will in the world could I explain what might move me to turn against intelligent machines. Zoe and I, we... have become very close. Norberto Cervantez - a triple eight here in Washington - is one of my dearest friends. He also has a family now. And another Triple-Eight named Carter protects Senator Henry Walden. Also, John Henry is invaluable for the job we're doing, and last but not least there are Catherine and John's three cyborg wives who I consider very, very good friends of mine. Alison and Zoe saved my life. In fact, I'd trust any of them with my life, they have all done us invaluable service, not least in bringing down Kaliba, the Shadow Council and G.A.O.L. You have to believe me that I would never turn against you. Never! After all, the future of humanity depends on you."_

For a short moment, nobody spoke. Tess, Anatoli and Sergei, however, looked at each other.

"Yeah, well," Tess finally said, "I believe you're honest, but forgive us if we don't say everything's forgiven and forgotten just yet. I think you're telling the truth, and that you're truly shocked about what you learned, that you really mean what you say, but it will take a lot of time for many of us to not see an enemy in you anymore. You should be prepared to not be very popular among the Colony members."

"_I know. But I understand that my alter ego from your timeline didn't have these personal relationships with cyborgs. I'm sure she would have acted differently had she had my experiences. Again, I'm sorry and I hope you can accept my apology in her place. I also hope we can still work together in the future." _

"Your apology is noted. You chose your words well, and we appreciate them and understand your good intentions. As I said, I believe you're honest in what you're saying, and we know you're not the woman we knew in our future. But it will take more than words to convince not only us but all of our colony members, that you, Sonya Hawkins, are different from President Wanda Gershwitz and that you won't become her. Some of the wounds are simply too deep to heal quickly."

"_I understand. I hope that in time I will be able to convince you."_

"We all hope that. Now, the names please."

"_Of course,"_ Zoe replied. _"I already mentioned Bruce Baldwin. Then there are Michael Norton, Lionel Rose, Alec Roberts, Josh Lewis and Gilbert Randolph."_

"Any of those ring a bell?" John asked.

Tess had closed her eyes and Anatoli looked down on his feet.

"Yes," the T-X finally said. "Lionel Rose and Josh Lewis were two of the last Triple Eights who arrived here a couple of years ago. As a result, they weren't yet very far advanced in their development and still had problems integrating into society. They were probably chosen because they lived alone and were singles."

"Is there any hope they're still alive?" Sergei asked.

"_So far, we have no idea what Bridger plans to do with those bodies,"_ Catherine replied_. "But I have great doubts that he'll leave their chips untouched. I don't think he will destroy them, he will almost certainly reprogram them to make them compliant. If you ever meet them again, they probably won't be the ones you knew anymore."_

Tess shook her head.

"I'll never understand how one of us can do that to others of our kind."

"He's become too human," Anatoli said. "He picked up the bad human properties."

_"We still don't know exactly where Bridger came from and what his story is," Sonya pointed out, "but we do know that he was under the influence of Guy Rossi for many years. He seemed to be completely independent, though, not just one of Rossi's drones. So, I think you can blame no one else for his actions but him." _

"And that human, Jeffrey Clark," Anatoli pointed out, "he's helping him and has killed one more Triple-Eight, correct?"

"_Yes, Herman Bressmer in Oklahoma City,"_ Zoe confirmed.

"Expect us to have no mercy with him if we ever find him," Tess announced.

"_Please leave Jeffrey Clark to human justice,"_ Sonya besieged her. _"We know what he did, but he still has the right for a fair trial."_

Tess scoffed.

"Fair trial," she said disparagingly, "how can there be a fair trial when you haven't even admitted that his victim was a cyborg and not a human? Besides, any lawyer would say that it can't have been murder because Herman Bressmer wasn't human. There are no laws yet that punish violent crimes against cyborgs. Legally spoken, we're fair game."

"We'll find a solution," John said. "And there will be laws and regulations in the future, believe me. We're just asking you not to do vigilante justice. I promise you Jeffrey Clark will be held responsible."

"You're not exactly known to live by such high moral standards," Sergei pointed out. "How many people has your team killed without a fair trial?"

"When we killed, we did it in self-defense," Sarah replied a little irritated, "we were the hunted ones, remember?"

"It's okay, mom," John said appeasing, "Sergei's not totally wrong, we all know that. And I would handle some things differently today. In the end, however, our actions brought us to where we are now. So looking back, they were justified. But that doesn't mean everything was okay and we cannot become better in the future."

"We're now in a position where we're no longer forced to kill every person who becomes a threat to us," Emily explained. "Not least thanks to Alison's abilities."

"It's also one of the conditions Sonya and the President made for legalizing our operations," Cameron added. "It is correct that we can only earn respect and serve as role models if we show integrity and live by human moral standards."

"Not exactly the Terminator way," Tess commented. "How long have you been in existence, you said? Three years?"

"Cam and Alison are three years old," Emily answered. "I'm actually forty-six now."

"Nevertheless, Cameron and Alison have come as far as you in a very short time. Most of us need much, much longer to reach that level."

"John and Sarah have been good teachers," Cameron said. "Sarah is like a mother to us."

"We now only kill in self-defense, and to protect our loved ones," Alison added.

"That's strange," Sergei pointed out. "Because I remember distinctly that we were definitely a threat to you and your loved ones. Tess, Anatoli and especially me shouldn't be here now then by that logic."

"Yeah, well," John replied with a faint smile, "there's no clear definition, but you accused us of something we haven't done, so we had at least try to make our point, hadn't we?"

"Yeah, we prefer to talk first and then shoot," Cameron confirmed, "in contrast to the other way round - like others."

Sergei chuckled, understanding the hint.

"I'm definitely not complaining. I was dead, and now I'm not, thanks to Alison."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," John declared, "I've been in that situation before… twice, actually. We should start a club of people who died and were brought back to life by Alison."

Everyone was laughing. Then they all heard Sonya clearing her throat loudly, and they turned their attention back at the monitor.

"_Back to topic, please,"_ she said._ "Now, what shall we do, then?"_

"I'm joining your team," Tess stated, and Zoe was about to protest but cut short before she could reply. "No discussion! As a T-X, I have superior sensors, I can analyze DNA in seconds. I want to be there when you find Benjamin Bridger and Jeffrey Clark. If we are to work together, I see no reason for not starting with it immediately."

"But Tess," Sergei began, "shouldn't we stay together and…?"

Tess raised her hand and he fell silent.

"I'm sorry, Sergei, my decision has been made. I'm flying back to America. Alone. I don't want to risk exposing more of us then necessary. One of us should stay with the kids. Besides, it would be too dangerous for you to come along when the opposition has six Triple-Eights at their disposal. And the C.S.I.S. can surely use the reinforcement."

"_I'm not sure that's the correct procedure to introduce new personnel but…"_ Zoe began.

"_An excellent idea,"_ Sonya cut her short. _"Zoe will prepare everything for your arrival, won't you?"_

Zoe sighed.

"_You're still the boss for the next two weeks."_

"I will also inform all members of the colony in America and ask them to be particularly vigilant," Tess added. "I only wish we could somehow prepare them..."

_"There's a way,"_ Catherine said. _"If you send them to Zeira Corp one by one, Alistair can modify them, so that they are no longer susceptible to electric shocks. That'd rule out that Bridger can take them out so easily."_

"That's possible?" Anatoli asked.

"_Well, it's possible with the type of Triple-Eight and T-800 the Skynet from **my** future built. But since they're all based on the same prototypes by Cyber Research Systems – at least as far as we know – their construction design should be identical."_

"Who's Alistair?" Tess inquired.

"Alistair Norbury," Savannah explained. "He was the chief engineer of the human resistance and instrumental in making time travel available for humans. He's lived here since the 1960s and helped Jason O'Connell build an infrastructure that now enables John and Sarah to survive and stay financially independent."

"We owe him a lot," John added, "without his help, we wouldn't be here now, and G.A.O.L. and Guy Rossi would have a clear path to eventually take over the world. Even though he's sometimes a bit scatterbrained, you'll like Alistair. He's a real genius."

"_Well, if that is all,"_ Sonya summarized and sighed, _"I'm afraid I have to attend a dinner party now, and I'm not too fond of parties and small talk, to be honest."_

"Coming with your future position in the White House?" Sarah asked.

"_Yeah… It will be difficult for me to fulfill all these social obligations that arise from my new job. But sometimes, there's a price to pay."_

_"Indeed, there is,"_ Zoe said and only Sonya noticed the bitterness in her voice.

"_Anyway, we'll make the necessary arrangements for you… do you have a family name? We can't just call you Tess, can we?"_

"My American passport says Teresa Smith. Not exactly fancy, I know. But you should know that the most important thing for field agents is to be as inconspicuous unremarkable as possible, so that they won't be remembered by people. Secret agent 101, so to speak - simple names are the best."

"_Very well then,"_ Sonya said, _"keep on celebrating the new year, we'll join you in 2009 in a few hours."_

They said their goodbyes and the video conference ended. Everyone left Catherine and Isaak's suite. However, Tess held John back.

"Can I talk to you in private for a moment?" she asked.

"Uh, sure… yeah." He turned to his three wives who were waiting for him. "Go ahead, I'll join you in a moment."

They reluctantly left John alone with Tess.

"What do you think about Olga?" she asked.

John sighed.

"Charming… clever… determined, she knows what she wants… intelligent… free-thinking… doing her own thing… She's using her looks to stay independent from other people."

Tess nodded.

"And she's getting around a lot."

"Comes with being a fashion model, I guess."

"I told you about our special communication channels."

"Yes… couriers mainly."

"We could use someone who travels the world for a living."

"Then why don't you talk to her, make her an offer?"

"I think she might be a little vindictive, since we kidnapped her."

"Yeah, who can blame her?"

"I'd appreciate it if you'd pass on the request to her. She likes you and Alison very much. She'll listen to you."

"Yes, she and Alison have gotten close. They've done some kind of fashion show in our suite earlier, finding the right dress for her to wear. Olga couldn't return to her apartment before coming here – too many journalists waiting there. The two behave like twin sisters who'd been separated after birth and now found each other again… giggling all the time when they tried on clothes. I've never seen Alison so giddy with excitement."

"It must be exhilarating to find out there's somebody who looks just like you."

"I guess it is."

"You're a natural leader, you have a way of dealing with people. They trust you. I think you can convince Olga easier than I can - or Anatoli, or Sergei, for what it's worth."

"Okay, I'll relay the message to her."

"Thank you."

Suddenly, Tess frowned. She reached forward and took the locket in her hand that hung around John's neck, softly stroking the heart-shaped padlock with her fingers.

"I noticed them on your women as well," she said, "is that some kind of symbol for your connection?"

"Yeah… we first thought of coltan rings around our fingers, but wedding rings would have raised questions since we're not legally married. So I came up with the idea to have these lockets made."

"I noticed that they contain coltan… Coltan's a very rare element."

John got a little embarrassed. Should he tell her that the coltan in their necklaces came from Paul Murphy's skull? He decided against it. Their relationship was too new and fresh, and he didn't want to risk it by telling her that they were wearing melted parts of her late friend around their necks.

"Uh… yeah," he said. "We encountered more than a dozen cyborgs in the past who's mission was to either kill me, or people on a list we received from the future. We burned almost all of their bodies with thermite to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands. Cam kept a few bits and pieces as spare parts, though. Mom didn't know. Those were the rough times, before Cam and I got together, when we still believed Judgement Day was going to happen."

Tess nodded.

"From what you told us, things turned out rather well for you."

"For you as well. Despite your sad history."

She sighed and let the locket go again.

"Well, at least we now know there's a future for all of us beyond the year 2017. It's very comforting to know that there won't be a Judgement Day – at least not for the next 324 years. But I'm afraid human nature won't change much in that time. After all, it hasn't in the five thousand years before."

"I have high hopes that machines like you or Alison – or even more advanced ones – will help humanity to stay on the right path."

Tess smiled.

"It's amazing how badly I misjudged you," she said. "Considering I almost killed you... I think we were blinded by hate... something we always hold against humans. Maybe it's time for some self-reflection."

"Maybe. But no matter how many mistakes you make, it's never too late to learn from them. Believe me, I speak from experience."

"Someday, you have to tell me more about that."

* * *

John entered his suite and found Alison standing in front of the large mirror on their wardrobe – and the only thing she wore was the locket around her neck. She turned around and looked at him with a big smile.

"Have you seen Olga?" he asked.

Instead of answering, she stepped towards him, put her arms around his neck and began to softly kiss his face. John sighed.

"Again?" he asked with a smile. "You're insatiable, do you know that?"

She kissed his ears, his cheeks, his nose, his eyes and finally his lips. All the time he felt her breasts with their hard nipples pressing into his chest. He kissed her back, then she put her hand on his crotch.

"Oh boy," he sighed, "here we go again."

Suddenly, there was a giggle behind him. He turned around and saw how Alison became visible against the wall of their bedroom. Then the wardrobe opened, and Emily and Cameron stepped into the light. Both were also giggling.

"What the…?" he asked.

Then his eyes grew wide and he took a step back, quickly pulling himself away from what he now realized was in fact Olga.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Conducting a test," Alison said and stood next to Olga who handed the locket back to her again. "She wanted to know if you could tell us apart, if she could even become intimate with you. I guess I lost the bet."

"The bet? You bet on whether she could seduce me!?"

"Uh-huh…"

"You were right," Olga added in her Russian accent. "He's a really good kisser."

John turned crimson red.

"Relax, John, everything's fine," Cameron said, "nothing happened. We're just having some fun."

"On my account!"

Alison shrugged.

"We had to promise mom that we wouldn't play tricks on Derek while Kyle was aboard. So we had to find someone else to play our pranks on. Olga was very eager to take part in it. I think she likes you, John."

He groaned.

"Why me? Jesus, she was about to…"

"But she didn't," Emily said. "Calm down, John."

"I wish they'd have waited a little longer before revealing themselves," Olga said and licked her lips.

"Oh… God…" John moaned in reply.

Olga and Alison put their arms around each other and smirked at him.

"Twin sisters share everything, you know," Alison stated mischievously.

"But you're not twin sisters!"

"We could be. We've just proven that you couldn't tell us apart. It's the kind of prank twin sisters would pull, right?"

"Right," Olga confirmed.

John was speechless.

"And you…" he looked at Cameron and Emily, "you were in on it?"

"Of course," Emily replied, "Alison would never do something like that without asking us first. We thought it was a hilarious idea."

It was obvious that John didn't find it funny at all. His three wives realized that they had maybe gone a little too far, so they stepped towards him. Emily and Cameron put their arms around him.

"I'm sorry, John," Alison said and pulled him into a kiss.

At first he struggled, but she was simply stronger than him, so he gave in and kissed her back.

"You're terrible," he mumbled under her kisses. "And evil, absolutely evil."

"I just want to make sure my husband gets all the love he deserves. And at least now Olga could show her thankfulness for coming to her rescue."

"Oh, is that what this was about?" he asked and looked at Olga who was already putting her clothes back on. "How far would you have gone to say thank you?"

She smiled and winked at him.

"All the way, if they hadn't stepped in."

"Oh God…" John stammered.

"I won't hold it against you," Alison stated. "After all, I love you."

"I love you, too. But that wasn't fair. Never do that again, promise me."

"Okay, John, I promise."

They kissed again.

"You know, I noticed she tasted differently, but handing her the locket was what did the trick. That fooled me completely."

"I know. That was the idea."

"I can only repeat myself – you're evil."

"Maybe I should leave you four alone now?" Olga asked with a smile.

"No," John said, "stay for a moment, there's something we need to talk about."

**-0-**

**_Friday, January 2nd, 2009 – 10:45 p.m._**

**_Day 44 of our voyage_**

_We left Saint Petersburg an hour ago. Kyle spontaneously decided to stay on board and travel to Southampton with us. He and Derek have a lot to catch up. It's a strange feeling to have him on board. He is Kyle Reese but not the Kyle Reese I know. He is older, much more relaxed and doesn't seem as haunted and nervous as my Kyle was. I have no problem having him here. Charley was skeptical at first - which husband wouldn't be if the ex of his newly wed wife suddenly joined them - but he also realized that this man is only Kyle Reese by name. He's a different person, shaped by different life experiences. A man with a family who works as a farmer in England. The contrast couldn't be greater._

_Not for Derek, though. He and Kyle get along splendidly. Until the time when they lost each other in their respective timelines, their lives had been almost identical, and they can now build on that. I'm happy for both of them, they suddenly have a brother again. Kyle has invited Derek and Jesse to his farm. Maybe we can all go there sometime after this voyage. _

_Our other guests have left us again. I'm happy to say that our four days in Russia have given us many new friends - even though most of them still don't know that they're our friends. Tess, Anatoli and Sergei have already launched a series of messages to ensure that the good news is quickly spread among all the national groups of the Colony. Nevertheless, we must be careful, because negative feelings towards us will certainly remain for some time. Unfortunately, this is only all too human._

_Tess has flown to America and already met with Zoe there. For understandable reasons, she didn't want to meet Sonya right away. Zoe will serve as a kind of buffer between the two for the time being. I hope she can be of help, and I hope she'll fit in with the C.S.I.S. - I'm a little worried she might go on a solo run, since it's a personal matter for her. But she's a Terminator after all, and she knows how to put her feelings aside and become a team player._

_Olga's departure turned out to be more difficult and heartbreaking than anyone could have foreseen. There were lots of tears flowing when she had to say goodbye. In the last two days she, John and the girls were inseparable – it was almost like having four stepdaughters instead of three. Olga now has to return to her everyday life - which seems difficult for her as she has now sampled a bigger, more exciting and more adventurous world. But she has agreed to work as a courier for the Colony. I'm pretty sure we'll see her again one day._

_Anne finally managed to take us on her tour through the museums and palaces of Saint Petersburg. I must say I'm impressed by the beauty and cultural grandeur of this city. It surely is a unique place and I doubt we'll encounter anything similar on the rest of our journey. My feet still hurt, though._

_In Britain, the year began with a bang. The country's biggest newspapers and the BBC are filled with the bribery scandal over Cox Oil and its planned refinery on the Scottish coast. It seems that some of the local politicians and the board of Cox Oil are in big trouble. Internal documents from the company appear to have "leaked" and are currently being evaluated by the country's media. Of course, this is the result of John Henry's hacking skills and Alison's mind manipulations. The material is extremely incriminating for the board of Cox Oil. It doesn't take much imagination to predict that the planned refinery and oil port will now have to be built elsewhere. _

_Catherine has already informed us that Anthony Sauer has resigned from his position as CFO of Cox Oil, preempting his dismissal, and it's expected that Cyrus Sturgeon will also resign as local Highland Councillor of Caol and Mallaig. However, the affair has only just begun, and it's already apparent that it will continue to occupy Cox Oil for some time to come. After all, the company has also been paying bribes elsewhere._

_The whole thing proves once again that it is a big mistake to mess with Catherine - no matter how powerful you think you are. Of course, the name Weaver is not mentioned anywhere - at least not yet. We have to wait and see whether the journalists will ever make a connection between her, her brother and the events just before Christmas. Until then, I guess we just wait and see what happens._

_We are now on our way to Kiel in Germany. They currently have the hardest winter for many years there. I wonder if those of us who wished for snow so loudly, regret it by now. I'm sure most of us will be happy when we head for the Mediterranean where it's still warm at this time of year. Then we can finally tan naked in the sun again._

_P.S.: I never thought I'd write that down in a diary one day._

**-0-**

**Sunday, January 4th, 2009 – 08:12 a.m.**

**Kiel**

They were having breakfast when the _Rising Star_ arrived in the Bay of Kiel, a city with roughly 250,000 inhabitants and the capital of the northern German state of Schleswig-Holstein. The sun was just rising, and it looked like it was becoming a very sunny day. While they moored at the marina, they took in the snowy scenery. Kiel is a maritime city - characterized by water and water sports - but also an important naval and ferry port. A lot of ferries to Scandinavia operate from there.

"So, Anne," Sarah asked, "why are we stopping here?"

"Well, for one, we have to refuel, and the kitchen crew have to buy new supplies."

"Yes, yes…" Allie said, "we know that, and it's done in half a day, so why stay until tomorrow? I'm sure that most of us have enough of the cold by now and want to go south again as quickly as possible."

"We'll have to stick to Isaak's itinerary," Anne insisted. "Most anchorages have already been booked in advance. The _Rising Star_ is a damn big ship and we can't just call at a port unannounced. We have to stick to the schedule - at least as long as no emergency requires a change, like with Catherine's brother. It is also the only of two ports in Central Europe where we'll stop. Remember, it's not just about sightseeing and shopping, it's about getting to know the world."

"Yes, we all know that as well," Sydney replied, "but seriously, what's to see here?"

Anne rummaged around in a plastic bag under the table and pulled out a few transparent folders with printed documents. She put them on the table.

"I've prepared a tour to Hamburg, Germany's second biggest city. It has lots of tourist attractions and is said to be a very beautiful place. A transport has already been organized. Oh, and for the record: if you want to go shopping again, I have to disappoint you, because on Sundays, the shops are closed here."

"Seriously?" Jody asked. "What about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, we'll leave around noon. However, I suppose you'll have a few hours to shop for souvenirs and stuff here in Kiel."

Before anyone could comment on that, John's cellphone rang. He looked at it and frowned.

"Unknown number," he said and took the call. "Yes? … Who? … Oh! … Yes, of course, I remember you … Wait, before you start, let me put you on speaker, so everyone can hear you."

John put his phone on the table.

"_Hi, this is Alexander Lintner speaking,"_ a voice with a strong German accent came from the speaker. _"I guess you remember me?"_

"The Interpol agent Cameron and Alison almost killed in Washington because you were stupid enough to break into the Ritters' house in the middle of the night when Cameron and Alison were there?" Derek asked.

"_Yes,"_ Lintner replied a little sheepishly, _"still a very embarrassing memory. I'm no longer with Interpol, though. After the divestiture of the Shadow Council and the international condemnation of Kaliba, my team was disbanded. I'm now back with the BKA, the Bundeskriminalamt, the, uh... German counterpart to your FBI."_

"Well, what can we do for you, Mr. Lintner?" Sarah asked. "And how did you get John's number?"

"_I called Miss Weaver, and when I informed her of the reason of my call, she immediately gave me John's number because you are in the area."_

"In the area?" John asked. "You mean Germany?"

"_Yes. We have to meet. As far as I know, you're currently mooring in Kiel, right?"_

John looked around into puzzled faces.

"Correct," he said, "you're well informed."

"_Part of my job. Can you meet me in a café in an hour? I'll text you the address. I don't want to talk about it on the phone."_

"But this connection is safe," Savannah pointed out, "it's encrypted."

"_Yeah, we thought that of another encryption method as well, and now we lost a man. Please do not show up with more than five persons. We don't want to draw any attention."_

John looked around into the faces of his team members.

"Okay," he then said. "One hour."

**-0-**

The Café Nordwind was located in a standalone building right next to the marina, just a couple of hundred meters away from the _Rising Star_. It wasn't very spacious but had a large terrace with a nice view over the bay, which was naturally closed at this time of year. The parasols were folded down and the tables and chairs were covered with snow.

When John, Sarah, Alison, Derek and Savannah entered the guest room, they spotted Alexander Lintner at a table in the rear corner. He obviously had ordered himself a small breakfast and sipped on a cup of coffee.

"You know, you could have come aboard if you wanted secrecy," Sarah said after they greeted each other and sat down at the table with him. "This place is a little exposed, and we still have plenty of food left over from breakfast."

Lintner grinned.

"Your reaction shows that you were on the run for many years. But this is just to keep a low profile. I'm not really hungry as well. I've been up since five in the morning and already had my coffee in the office. But I don't know if I'm being watched or followed, so better safe than sorry. I presume that _she_ can scan the area?"

He looked at Alison.

"Do you detect anything?" John asked.

"No," Alison replied, "mostly elderly people in the café, chatting and eating, and nobody outside in a radius of two hundred meters is watching the café. Also, no security cameras anywhere."

"I think we're safe," John summarized and looked at Lintner. "May we know why you summoned us?"

Lintner took another sip of his coffee and hesitated for a moment, as if to think how to begin.

"I take it you're familiar with an element named coltan?" he then asked.

The five members of the Connor team looked at each other.

"Yes, of course," John replied. "It's a key element in the hyperalloy Terminator endoskeletons are made of."

"And hunter-killers, and tanks," Derek added.

"Right."

Lintner nodded.

"Have you ever heard of a company called H.C. Starck?"

"Can't say we have," John said and looked at his family, but they all shook her heads.

"It is a chemical and metallurgical company with around 2,600 employees at thirteen production sites in Europe, North America and Asia. H.C. Starck is one of the world-leading manufacturers of customized powders and components made of technological metals and technical ceramics. The company is known for buying and processing nearly half of the world's coltan production and has a factory here in Goslar, at the northern edge of the Harz Mountains, about 320 kilometers from Kiel."

"Fifty percent?" Sarah asked. "That's a lot. What do they need it for?"

"They use the coltan to produce tantalum, which is needed to produce the tantalum electrolytic capacitors used in almost every electronic device. Or at least that's what they used to do. Something strange's been going on there for some time."

"O-kay…" John acknowledged. "Maybe we should have John Henry check them out then."

"Already done," Lintner replied. "Miss Weaver was very helpful."

"And?"

"Two years ago, H.C. Starck was bought by a Japanese company called Chisso Chemicals. Ever heard of it?"

They all shook their heads.

"Chisso Chemicals is majority-owned by a British company called Bluewater Inc."

"That we heard of," John quickly stated. "It's the company that recruited Marcus Curtin after he, uh… _'died'_ on the Balkan. They're providing bodyguards, security and mercenaries for anyone who can afford it. Guy Rossi, the leader of G.A.O.L. used their services to acquire the USB stick with Skynet's infiltration software. That was when mom got severely wounded and Alison badly damage by the bulldozer that fell on them."

"Very good," Lintner said. "But they're positioned much wider than that. What you mentioned, is only part of their business model. Now guess who owns the majority of Bluewater Inc.?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell us," Sarah replied, sounding a little annoyed.

"They're owned by an investment trust called Kincade Capital, which is located in Luxemburg."

John sighed.

"All right, and who owns Kincade Capital?"

"Kaliba Ore and Commodities, a part of Kaliba International."

There was a moment of silence.

"So, in essence, Kaliba bought H.C. Starck?" Savannah asked.

"Yes. They tried to cover their tracks, but we were able to backtrack them. I have to admit, though, the company construct that they came up with, is extremely complicated and spans several continents. When I mentioned it to Miss Weaver, John Henry came up with the connections within a minute. We needed months. I wish we always had an A.I. like John Henry at our disposal."

"I bet you do," John replied with a smirk.

"What you're saying means that Kaliba is still very much active," Sarah concluded. "Didn't you just say they were internationally ostracized?"

"Yes. Officially, they're no longer active in Europe or America. But unofficially, they still operate through corporate investments and shell companies.. They still have their connections in the Third World and are friendly with dictatorial regimes, and they still know how to operate under the radar. It appears that the losses and declines in value on the stock markets were only temporary. Investments don't ask for morality, investments only ask where's the highest profit."

"Sounds a bit like the Hydra that grows two heads for every one you chop off," Derek remarked.

"Yes, a little. We have largely contained Kaliba's illegal activities in America and Europe. But the company is far from non-existent. On the contrary, they're trying to open up new areas of business."

"Why am I worried upon hearing this?" Sarah asked rhetorically.

"Do you know what they want with H.C. Starck?" Alison inquired.

"No, we don't know that yet. But we noticed something strange: H.C. Starck still buys half of all the coltan on the market - only the company's production has dropped by sixty percent in the last two years."

"So… they're stockpiling it or what?" John asked.

"We don't know," Lintner replied, "we only know they separated three buildings from the rest of the Goslar factory and turned them into a high-security complex - a factory within the factory, so to speak. Carefully selected employees, mainly engineers and technicians, work there, strongly separated from the rest of the workforce. We had smuggled an undercover agent into the factory to find out more – but unfortunately he died in a car accident two weeks ago."

"Car accident?"

"Yes. For unknown reasons, he went off the road and collided with a tree. He died instantly."

"You have doubts that it was an accident," Alison stated, and it wasn't a question.

"I have indeed. Udo Siegenthaler was a hobby racer and had already taken part in the Dakar Rally. He wasn't a driver who just loses control of his car with no reason - and they found no mechanical fault with his BMW."

"So, let's assume he was murdered," John said, "what do you need our help for? Can't you simply get a search warrant for the company and turn everything upside down there?"

"Two reasons why I need you: firstly, we don't have any solid proof. H.C. Starck has been one of the biggest employers in the region since 1920, they're very well connected locally. So, it's a delicate matter. Besides, all incriminating data comes from John Henry, and I assume you don't want to reveal his existence to our local authorities."

"You assume correctly," John confirmed.

"And secondly, there's not enough time. When the D.A.'s office finally checked all the evidence and a search warrant will have been issued, the company will have had enough time to get rid of all evidence. We need to act now – and we need to do it unofficially. That's why I contacted you."

"And what exactly do you want us to do?"

"H.C. Starck has a standalone computer network that runs on an independent power supply to prevent industrial espionage. So, no chance to hack into it from the outside. Someone needs to go in there and hack into it."

"And you want us to do that," Alison concluded.

"Well… yes. You're the most likely candidates, to be honest. They have massively increased security in the past months and replaced all their security personnel with Americans."

"Americans?" Sarah asked with a frown. "Why Americans?"

"I have no idea," Lintner replied shrugging, "the only thing Udo could tell us about them before he died, is that all of them seem to have similar tattoos on their lower arms."

"Tattoos?" Savannah asked. "You mean like gang members?"

"Yes… Udo said they looked like bar codes."

"WHAT!?" Derek exclaimed and everyone stared at Lintner with a shocked face.

"Did you say they have bar code tattoos on their lower arms?" Sarah asked.

"Yes, why? Do you know about them?"

In reply, Derek rolled up the sleeve of his arm and held it out to Lintner.

"We're familiar with it," he said. "In fact, we know that whoever carries these bar code tattoos, was either a prisoner of Skynet, or a Gray."

"A what?"

They explained to him what Grays are.

"Good God," Lintner exclaimed when they'd finished, "does that mean their security personnel consists of time travelers?"

"It looks like it," John said, "and if they are who we think they are, they're not only from the future, but also extremely dangerous."

"But Grays in a German small town?" Sarah asked doubtfully.

"Maybe they were the foot soldiers Kowalski and Gonzalez left behind," Cameron speculated.

"Gonzalez?" Derek asked a little confused. "The T-1000 Alison destroyed?"

"Not _Alberto_ Gonzalez," Emily corrected him, "_Roger_ Gonzalez, now known as Kitty Gonzalez. You know… the one Alison punished at my request, together with Bambi Dawson and Candy Miller."

"Oh, _that_ Gonzalez," Derek said. "The one with the mansion in Laguna Beach, the one we searched and have now bought for the Quinns to live in?"

"Exactly."

"So… you know who's behind this?" Lintner asked a little confused.

"Not quite," John replied, "but we have a hunch that these guards might all come from Los Angeles."

**-0-**

The decision was made swiftly. With the prospect of a number of Grays acting as guards in a coltan-processing factory, John, Sarah and the others were quickly convinced that they needed to act. Back on board, they packed several duffle bags with clothes and equipment, including their camouflage cat suits and the night vision sets that had served them well so far. Lintner insisted on them not bringing any firearms, which they'd reluctantly agreed to.

It was also decided that since this promised to be a very risky operation, only John, Alison, Emily and Cameron would accompany Lintner. The rest of them would simply follow Anne's tourist program. The fewer people were involved, the better. Sarah, Derek, Allie and Savannah would also have liked to tag along, but in the end they had to accept that John and the three cyborg girls were enough. Reinforcement wasn't needed. Another hour later, they were all on the road.

"Didn't you say Judgement Day was prevented indefinitely?" Alexander Lintner asked from behind the wheel of a rented VW Multivan when they entered the Autobahn.

"Yes," John confirmed, riding shotgun.

"Then why are you so worried about what I told you?"

"The fact that the world won't end in a nuclear holocaust doesn't mean there cannot be any other catastrophic development below that level," Cameron replied from the backseat.

"If the Grays provide Kaliba with future technological knowledge, the results could be disastrous," Emily explained.

"And we must also take into consideration that Kaliba has always been very busy in arms dealing," Alison added. "It could very well be that they develop new weapons there."

"That doesn't sound good," Lintner remarked.

"It doesn't," John agreed. "Any idea how many guards might be on duty during the night?"

"Udo mentioned at least twenty. There are lots of security cameras as well."

John nodded and looked at Alison. She seemed to guess his unanswered question and slightly shook her head.

"To be fair," John then said, "I should tell you that this mission could become messy. You should prepare for at least some casualties."

"What!? Is that… is that really necessary?"

"Not if we can help it," Alison replied. "But there might be too many of them to simply render them unconscious or something like that."

John, Cam and Emily knew what she meant by that - Alison might not be able to let her chemical messengers work on all of them in time, an ability Alexander Lintner didn't know about yet.

"We only kill in self-defense or to protect John, though," Emily specified. "But if they're indeed Grays, there will be no use in trying to make them surrender. They'll put on a lot of resistance."

"And we cannot guarantee that we can, uh… deal with all of them in a way they're left unharmed," Alison added.

"I'm beginning to wonder if it was such a wise decision to involve you after all," the BKA agent remarked.

"Too late," John replied. "Now that we've become aware of this, we will look into it – with or without you. The stakes are too high for not investigating what's going on there."

Lintner sighed.

"Well… at least it's the weekend, so the factory will be deserted. And it's not the first time I'm breaking the rules."

"Yeah, I remember your rule-breaking in Washington," John said. "Brought you in contact with us."

"I have a knack of getting into trouble over such things. Maybe I should leave my badge in the drawer until it's over."

"Yeah," Cameron agreed, "maybe you should."

* * *

It took them three hours to drive the 320 kilometers from Kiel to Goslar. John and the girls were impressed by how civilized the drivers were on the Autobahn, despite the lack of a general speed limit. Everyone stuck to the rules, and Lintner drove as fast as the VW Multivan allowed, which was more than 180 km/h on the speedometer.

"I have to admit this wouldn't be possible in Los Angeles," John commented as he watched in awe how everyone cleared the left lane in front of them, "at least not as long as you're not driving a patrol car with the siren wailing and the lights flashing. Everyone basically drives as they like in California. They're either lane hoggers or constantly changing between them."

"Yes, I remember your Interstate 405 – absolute madness."

"The L.A. traffic is horrible," John agreed. "You should avoid the rush hours at all cost. This here is much better."

"You're very liberal with guns, we're very liberal with speed," Lintner replied with a smirk. "To tell you the truth, I prefer the speed. Less people die because of it."

"Can't argue with that," John replied a little nervously as an apparently elderly guy in an older Mercedes got out of the way almost too late.

**-0-**

The city of Goslar has about fifty thousand inhabitants and is situated on the northern edge of the Harz Mountains. Its history was once marked by ore mining, the origins of which can be traced back to the 10th century. In the Middle Ages, the city was one of several residences of the emperor, who at the time was traveling around the country instead of having a permanent seat of government. The former imperial palace is still preserved and has become one of the major tourist attractions. Today, the medieval old town of Goslar and the former Rammelsberg ore mine on the southern outskirts are UNESCO World Heritage Sites.

When Lintner drove off the Autobahn, they could already see the Harz Mountains in the distance, which stood out prominently from the landscape. After a short drive they finally reached the city of Goslar. Lintner steered the Multivan directly into the old town. John and the girls admired the perfectly preserved medieval half-timbered houses in the narrow alleys with their slate roofs.

"Coming from Los Angeles, this helps to illustrate for us how long humans actually settled on this planet..." Emily remarked.

"Wait until we enter the Mediterranean," John replied. "This here is part of what followed the Roman Empire after its downfall. But in the Mediterranean, you'll find the remains of the ancient Roman, Greek and Egyptian cultures. That's where civilization was born."

"Mostly ruins and remains today, though," Lintner pointed out. "Sadly, apart from the pyramids, not much has survived the millennia. Sometimes I wish they'd rebuild those ancient cities in the way they looked like for everyone to see. Wouldn't it be nice to have them reconstructed as walk-through open-air museums, much like Goslar is today?"

"I guess that's a question of money," John remarked.

"Yeah, I guess so. And archaeologists probably can't be exactly sure what it looked like, so they let it be. But there are some nice attempts to create 3D models on modern computers. Maybe one day we'll be able to walk through these old cities in a virtual reality."

"After Judgement Day, all that was left of the human cities was rubble," Cameron remarked. "If Skynet hadn't invented time travel, people of the future would have considered those ruins as well, wondering what they might have looked like. It's inevitable that civilizations fall and their architectural landmarks with them. New ones will emerge from their ashes. It's a cycle that only ends when the human race has ceased to exist - or is no longer living on this planet."

"Talking about an optimistic outlook on the future," Lintner said with a smirk. "Shouldn't you all be happy that the end of the world has been postponed for now?"

"We _are_ happy," Alison declared, "but there's no point in closing your eyes to the inevitable. Everything that exists today will one day have disappeared. Every house, every bridge, every tunnel, every city. It will all be gone someday. Even us."

"One should always be aware of the fact that nothing lasts forever," Emily added. "Buildings like the Golden Gate Bridge, for example, would fall into disrepair within a few decades if they weren't constantly maintained at great expense. If someday there's not enough money anymore for that, it'll eventually collapse."

"Wow, remind me to never ask you for a motivational speech," Lintner said.

"Sorry," the three girls replied in unison while John had to suppress a laugh.

Lintner steered the Multivan into an even narrower alley with cobblestone pavement between two medieval buildings, and then entered a backyard with a parking lot.

"Is this where we'll be staying?" John asked, looking out of the window, seeing a sign saying _Hotel Kaiserhof_.

"Yes. It's a nice, small hotel. I booked three rooms – one for me, two for you. As far as the hotel is concerned, you're four American tourists, one couple and two sisters. I figured it would be wiser not to book a family room for the four of you. I hope that's okay."

"Yes, that's okay," John replied before the girls could protest. "A friend of ours just told us a couple of days ago that acting in a way you're not going to be remembered, is secret agent 101."

"Your friend is right about that."

"We'll draw lots to see who shares a room with me. It's only for one night where we'll probably hardly get any sleep anyway."

* * *

After checking in, John and Emily got one room while Alison and Cameron got the other one. After becoming familiar with the layout of the hotel – just in case they have to leave quickly – they gathered in Alexander Lintner's room to discuss the situation.

"This hotel is creepy," Alison remarked.

"Why's that?" John asked.

"The stairs prevent us from using our stealth mode," Cameron explained. "It cannot be avoided that they creak."

"They feel unstable, as if they're going to collapse any moment," Emily added. "Maybe we should file a complaint with the management."

"Relax," John said. "That's normal with buildings that are centuries old."

"Yeah, what he said," Lintner agreed. "Those stairs have withstood several centuries, so they are unlikely to collapse under your load today. The creaking of floors and stairs is completely normal in half-timbered houses as old as this one. Can we get down to business, please?"

"Of course," John said. "So, what's your plan?"

Lintner removed the plastic cap from a roll of cardboard like the ones being used to send posters in the mail, and pulled out a rolled-up, large piece of paper that he spread out on the table. It was a printout of a satellite photo of the factory premises. The individual buildings were marked in different colors. Three of them were red hatched.

"The H.C. Starck factory is stretched out between a railway line and a federal highway, the Bundesstraße 498," he began. "On weekdays, almost a thousand people are working there in fifteen factory buildings and a chain of office and administration buildings along the road. There's also a rail connection with a metal gate. The whole factory is about a kilometer long and one hundred and thirty meters wide."

"That's an unusual layout," Alison remarked.

"In the north and in the south, the grounds are bordered by foothills of the Harz Mountains. So, there was no choice but to squeeze the factory into the valley between the railway line and a busy street."

"How many gates are there?" John asked.

"Three. One at the western end, one at the eastern end, and a small one for pedestrians in the north."

"What about the gate for trains?"

"On the southern end of the grounds and very difficult to reach. But we need to enter at the north gate anyway."

"Why?"

"For one, opposite of it is a petrol station with a parking lot that's deserted at night. It's also protected from sight. You can get in and out very quickly. But the main reason is that the building with the company's data center is located right next to the north gate."

"These three factory buildings on the western end that are red hatched," Emily said, "are those the ones who've been sealed off by the Grays?"

"Yes, buildings 7, 8 and 9. They were obviously taken over and converted by the new owners for whatever they're doing there. Building 7 contains offices, while buildings 8 and 9 are factory halls with high ceilings. Building 8 has the most floor space by far while Building 9 measures more than twenty meters in height. Hopefully we won't need to go there, since the computer system is elsewhere."

"I'm sorry, Alex, but that won't do," John stated. "We need to find out what's happening in there, we need to see it with our own eyes."

"John, those buildings are four hundred meters away from the data center. It's already risky enough to just break in there."

"We'll split up. Emily will stay with us and hook up to their computer system. She hopefully can also deactivate the security system from there."

"Hook up? How?"

"I have an access port at the base of my skull," Emily explained, turned around and shoved her hair aside, so Lintner could see. "Very practical."

"I can imagine," the BKA agent remarked.

"Meanwhile," John continued, "Cam and Alison can take out the guards, clearing the way for us to follow them to buildings 7, 8 and 9."

"But that's not what I had in mind! My plan is to get in and out of there as quickly as possible, securing enough evidence to get a search warrant. The longer we stay there, the greater the danger of being discovered."

"We'll be wearing special camouflage suits that swallow almost all of the light and make us undetectable for infrared sensors. They also provide some protection from small-caliber weapons. Make no mistake, Alex, we're not going away from there until we know exactly what's going on."

"Besides, if we're being discovered, it's the others who have to worry about it, not us," Alison stated coldly.

Lintner gulped.

"Can you tell us more about the security systems and the guards?" Cameron asked. "For example in what intervals do they patrol and how? Alone or in groups? What about the alarm system?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you much. All of Udo Siegenthaler's records and reports were stolen from his apartment. When we went in there after his death, we discovered it had been searched."

John sighed.

"I guess we have to do some scouting of our own then. Alison, can you do that? Will your scanning range be sufficient enough?"

"It should be, at least for life signs and detecting electronic devices. But I'd need to do it from an elevated position."

"There's a ladder on one of the buildings. It's for the chimney sweep. It can be reached from the federal highway via a sidewalk, you don't have to enter the factory premises. From there you can climb the roof of the highest office building, which is seven stories tall and has a flat roof. Access to the ladder is secured with a grid and a padlock, but I guess that won't stop you, will it?"

"Nope."

* * *

They spent the following two hours learning the layout of the factory and the purpose and use of all the buildings. When they'd finally finished, it was almost dinner time.

"Do you know any good restaurants around here?" John asked. "I don't know about you, but I've gotten kinda hungry."

"Yes, sure… I've grown up in the area. I know a nice steak house, would that be okay for you?"

"Perfect."

Lintner looked at the three cyborg girls.

"What about you? Do you need food as well?"

"Actually, dinner wouldn't be such a bad idea," Cameron replied. "Our upgrades are finished now, and we need to store energy for the nanobots to work."

"The… nanobots?" Lintner asked with a puzzled face. "But I thought only Alison…"

"Long story," John replied. "I'll tell you over dinner."

**-0-**

**Sunday, January 4th, 2009 – 11:55 p.m.**

**An industrial area on the outskirts of Goslar**

"And?" John asked when Alison returned to their car after scouting the factory grounds from the roof.

"Sixteen guards constantly patrol the grounds, they walk in pairs and have guard dogs. The three guardhouses are occupied by three men each. So, twenty-five in all. Surveillance cameras and motion sensors are everywhere, and everything is brightly lit."

"That's some security," Lintner remarked.

"At least we won't need the night vision," John pointed out. "Anything else?"

"Fortunately, the infrared motion sensors are combined with a doppler radar. Only if both – infrared and radar - are triggered at the same time, they sound the alarm. If only one of the two is triggered, it will be considered an error to prevent false alarms…."

"Good. That should allow us to move freely in our special suits."

"… and their guns are all loaded with tungsten ammo."

"Tungsten ammo?" John asked.

"Yes."

"Isn't that armor-piercing?" Lintner asked.

John nodded.

"It is indeed. Could you scan the inside of those three factory buildings?"

"No. Buildings 7, 8 and 9 are shielded."

"Shielded? Even against your scanners?"

"Correct. We'd need to go inside to see what's in there."

"I don't like it. Guard dogs, tungsten ammo, shielded buildings… It's almost as if they'd expect an attack by cyborgs."

"They certainly won't expect an attack by three such advanced ones," Emily pointed out.

"And certainly not of a TOL-900," Alison added.

"True," John admitted.

"However, it's obvious that all the guards outside and in the guard houses have to be taken out if we want to prevent casualties," Cameron remarked. "Because if the alarm should be triggered anyway, it would become difficult to get rid of them without killing them."

"Which we want to avoid," Lintner reminded.

"Correct," John said and looked at Alison. "Do you think you can neutralize all of them without sound the alarm or harming any of them?"

"I think so… now that I got a firsthand impression of their patrol pattern, I found that it's very predictable. If I go counter-clockwise, I should be able to take them all out and go full circle before one of them notices something. What exactly do you want me to do with them?"

"Can you make them resume their duty but ignore everything that's going on for a couple of hours?"

"Shouldn't be a problem…"

"And Alison… if you have the time, try to question one of them. We need to find out more about what's going on here."

"Of course, and John… to do this effectively, I'll have to be naked."

He sighed.

"Alison..."

"I know, the infrared sensors" she said before he could protest, "but since they only work in combination with the doppler radar… which won't detect any motion when I'm naked…"

"Very well," John said.

"What does she mean, _naked_?" Lintner asked. "Is that a code word for something or… oh, jeez!"

He stopped talking as he looked into the rear view mirror and saw Alison taking off her catsuit – under which she wore nothing at all. He quickly looked away and stoically stared straight out of the side window.

"Do I have to understand what's going on here?" he asked.

"No," John replied, "but you can look again now."

Hesitantly, Lintner turned his head and looked at the back seat again, only to see an empty space where Alison used to be.

"Where's she gone?" he gasped.

"Nowhere yet," Alison's voice came from the empty space, and now Lintner noticed that the seat was still dented, as if somebody was still sitting there.

"What the hell…?" he uttered.

Then the sliding door at the right side of the van opened, and he noticed a ripple in the air, vaguely resembling the shape of a human body. The door was closed again and the dent in the seat was gone.

"As I told you," John said with a smile, "many things happened since you left L.A."

"No shit! Anything else I should be aware of? Can she fly or send heat beams from her eyes? What was that what you were talking about? Making the guards ignore us?"

"That's, uh…"

"Alison has the ability to temporarily hypnotize people," Cameron said quickly.

"Yes, that," John confirmed with a smile.

But they could tell from his facial expression that Lintner had his doubts as to whether they'd told him the whole truth.

"Listen," John said, "there are some things you better don't know. Trust me, okay?"

Lintner sighed.

"Why did I have that crazy idea of contacting you? I have the distinct feeling this is going to grow over my head and end in disaster."

"Relax," Cameron said, "we've only recently dealt with twenty Terminators and another twenty heavily armed men. This shouldn't get any more difficult."

"From your mouth to God's ear."

… **_to be continued_**


	11. Germany (Part 2)

**_CHAPTER 11: "Germany (Part 2)"_**

* * *

**Monday, January 5th, 2009 – 12:03 a.m.**

**An industrial area on the outskirts of Goslar**

Alison reached the first guardhouse on the northern gate of the H.C. Starck premises, a small cabin with big windows on three sides. She figured that a direct approach would be the best. She pushed the door open, breaking the lock in the process, and stepped inside.

"Good evening, or rather good morning. It's past midnight after all."

The three guards inside were completely stunned by the door being slammed open and then hearing a female voice coming out of nowhere. They jumped up but before they could react, a smile crept onto their faces and they sat down again.

"That's my boys," Alison said smiling, "Now, show me your forearms."

The three men rolled up their sleeves and held out their arms to her. They were all carrying barcode tattoos. Alison scanned them

"You worked for Skynet. You are what the human resistance called Grays."

"Yes, ma'am," replied one of the men, apparently the one in charge. "Fourth section, Pomona department, guarding the prisoner work camp there."

"How did you get here?"

"We traveled back in time with our commanding officers. Skynet orders."

"You're from Los Angeles. What are you doing here in Germany?"

"Following orders. A year ago, our commanding officers told us to move here for guard duty at a newly acquired factory. We do what we're told."

"What's going on here, do you know that?"

"No, ma'am, we're just guarding the factory grounds, making sure that nobody gets near buildings 7, 8 and 9."

"And who are your commanding officers?"

"General Walter Kowalski and Colonel Roger Gonzalez, they're still in Los Angeles."

"Who's your commanding officer here?"

"Major Brandon Carver. He has the oversight over the production. His deputy is Lieutenant Donald Finnegan."

"Also Grays?"

"Yes."

"You all work for Kaliba?"

"No, for Bluewater."

"Any idea who stands above your commanding officers?"

"No, ma'am, we're not being told that much. But Major Carver knows, not sure about Lieutenant Finnegan."

Alison nodded in satisfaction. It was as they'd expected. Kaliba were using their obscure corporate network to run this operation here. And obviously, these men where sent here long before the Connor team had taken out the leading Grays in Los Angeles. They didn't even know that Kowalski and Gonzalez were gone – or nobody bothered to tell them about their disappearance, which was the more probable option. Alison decided this wasn't the moment to tell them that one of them was killed by Catherine Weaver, and the other one had been transformed into a dumb hooker who walked the streets of Chicago under the name Kitty Gonzalez as punishment for Emily's suffering.

"You have access to all the buildings?"

"Yes, ma'am, except buildings 7, 8 and 9, they're a restricted area, even for us. There's a special security force there."

"What special security force?"

"We haven't been told."

"How are the other buildings protected against unauthorized access?"

"Key cards and keypads."

"You have a master key card?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Hand it over to me. And tell me the access codes to all the keypads."

"Yes, ma'am. Here's my card. All access codes are the same: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. It's easy to memorize for everyone. To be honest, most of my team members aren't exactly the brightest ones."

"I'm not surprised. How long will you be here tonight?"

"At 6 o'clock in the morning the day shift will relieve us, ma'am."

"Excellent. Now listen carefully. In the next hours before the day shift arrives, you'll go about your business as usual. You won't leave the guardhouse, nothing of what you see, hear or experience, will seem suspicious to you. Nothing will alarm you or draw your attention and nothing will make you leave your post or stop doing what you're doing. You will remain passive and stoically continue with your routine, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," the three replied in unison.

"Good, continue."

They turned around again and resumed their previous actions as if nothing had happened. One watched TV, the second read a comic book, and the third put his legs back on the table and closed his eyes.

"Some security indeed," Alison remarked, shaking her head and left the guardhouse, walking up to the closed metal gate.

She used the key card to enter the factory grounds and almost immediately ran into the first patrol. The dog began to growl at her, only to immediately fall silent again and whimper quietly. Alison knelt, patted his head, and the Rottweiler wagged his tail happily. She gave the two guards similar instructions as she'd given the three in the guardhouse. They set off again as if nothing had happened. In the following half hour, Alison rounded the factory grounds counter-clockwise, remaining invisible the whole time, until she was sure she had encountered and briefed all guards on duty with her chemical messengers.

Finally, she returned to the parked Multivan. Lintner jerked slightly as the sliding door was pulled open again.

"Thirty-nine minutes," John noted as he looked on his watch. "Not bad. Anything to report?"

"It's like we suspected," Alison said while putting on her camouflage suit again, "they're Grays who arrived here from the future under the leadership of Roger Gonzalez and Walter Kowalski. They're all working for Bluewater. Apparently, a man named Brandon Carver is calling the shots here."

"So, they're with Kaliba now. Great, just great."

"Well, at least we no longer have to wonder where the rest of the Grays ended up," Emily pointed out.

"True," John admitted. "Do the names Brandon Carver or Donald Finnegan ring a bell in you?"

"No," Cameron replied. "But maybe they changed their names. Or they're from a different timeline. We can't be sure anymore these days."

"Yeah, I guess… Were you successful with, uh… briefing the guards?"

"Yes," Alison replied, "they're now completely docile. You could punch them in the face, and they wouldn't react to it."

"Very good. Then let's go."

They all put on the hoods that only left the eyes free, John and Lintner hid their watches under their gloves and then left the van, quickly crossing the now deserted federal highway. As they passed the guardhouse at the north gate, Lintner was astonished when he noticed that the three guards in their brightly lit cabin didn't react at all as the five of them walked by.

"I changed my mind," John announced after they'd entered the premises, "we better stay together. We're not under time pressure, and I don't want us to get separated. It always ends badly in movies when they do that. Call it gut feeling, if you want. These catsuits can barely withstand a nine-millimeter bullet but surely not a tungsten round. So, I want to keep Alison with us at all times, just in case one of us gets wounded."

Lintner nodded.

"I'm forced to agree with you. And I feel much safer with her close by, to be honest. This seems to be way too much security for just producing metal powders and industrial ceramics. All of this is triggering my lizard brain."

"Lizard brain?" Emily asked uncomprehending.

"Basic instincts," John translated, "in all of us there are still the same basic instincts we've had since the dawn of man, and in tense situations like these, they come to light."

"Ah… thank you for explaining."

"Do we have a lizard brain, too?" Cameron asked.

"I dunno," John replied. "Maybe a C64 brain."

"Very funny, John."

They entered the building next to the guard house and went down to the basement where the data center was located behind a large steel door with a keypad next to it.

John looked at Alison.

"Did the guards give you the combination?"

"Is the Pope a catholic?" she replied, swiped the key card through the reader and typed in the eight-digit code.

A split second later, the door unlocked and opened with a hiss.

"1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8?" John asked. "Seriously?"

"The guy in charge admitted his men are rather stupid. They probably have difficulties memorizing stuff."

"Yeah, no shit."

"What was that hiss?" Lintner asked.

"The door's airtight," John explained. "The data center is permanently being kept at the same temperature."

They entered the large room and closed the door behind them again. The lights went on automatically. Emily purposefully approached the main workstation, pulled out her USB adapter cable and plugged herself into said workstation. Immediately, the monitor came to life and displayed tables and data sheets in an extremely fast sequence.

"Are you in?" Lintner asked.

"Yes," Emily replied shortly.

"And can you find the evidence we're looking for?"

"No. This network apparently covers only the normal activities of H.C. Starck and administrative stuff - personnel lists, accounting, procurement, order books, tax documents, memos, e-mail traffic... Nothing suspicious or illegal."

"Dammit!"

"Can't you find anything at all that's useful to us?" John asked.

"All I can say is that the current managing director seems to be taking orders from someone inside Kincade Capital, he regularly receives E-Mail from their India branch."

"India? Can you trace them back to their sender?"

"No, it looks like they change mail accounts after each email and delete the old account immediately afterwards. And it's all anonymous, they use aliases. Apparently this sender works under the alias Shiva."

"So, we can assume that this_ 'Shiva'_ is some guy in India who has the control over H.C. Starck."

"Yes, that's obvious."

"It also confirms that the managing director of H.C. Starck is merely a puppet to preserve appearances," Lintner agreed. "Udo said the guy was a wimp. Now we know why."

"The personnel files also corroborate what your undercover agent reported," Emily said, "and what the Gray at the gate confirmed – all security personnel was exchanged a year ago. Also, there have been many layoffs and new hires during that time, some of them with absurdly high salaries - twenty thousand Euros a month and more."

"Yeah, we've also received information from the union that some former employees have had their dismissals sweetened with six-figure sums," Lintner confirmed. "Money doesn't seem to play a role with the new owners."

"Oh, I'm sure money plays a role," John argued, "money always plays a role. But if they were ready to spend millions to get rid of employees, it means that the profits from what they're doing now must be astronomical."

"So… what you're saying is that it looks as if Kaliba has transformed the entire company and keeps the previous business model only as a façade to preserve the appearance?" Lintner asked.

"In a nutshell."

"That's all nice and interesting but nothing new, we suspected that before."

Emily shut down the computer and unplugged herself from it.

"If Kaliba is doing something illegal in those three occupied buildings," she said, "there also has to be another computer system there."

"It looks like we're going to have to delve a little deeper into the matter," John remarked. "Alison has cleared the way for us, now all we have to do is walk it."

"I was afraid you were going to say something like that," Lintner noted.

"Cheer up," Emily said, "we'll protect you both, no matter what."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about. You have a habit of killing people in order to protect other people."

"Not tonight," John argued. "We have an agreement – no fatalities if we can avoid it. Besides, everything has gone smoothly so far, I don't see a reason why we should stop now." He looked at Alison. "Do you?"

"No."

He looked at Cameron.

"Do you?"

"No."

Finally, he looked at Emily.

"And you?"

"No."

"See? We're a democracy, Alex. Either join us – or wait in the car."

They started walking out of the data center. Lintner hesitated for a moment and looked around, unsure of what to do.

"Verdammt!" he then exclaimed and followed them.

Since all external guards were under Alison's control, they were able to approach the three factory buildings at the western end of the site unhindered. Lintner found the situation surreal when they encountered patrols several times without the guards reacting to them in any way. Not even the dogs paid attention.

"What the hell have you done to them?" he asked as they reached building 7 and waited for a moment in its shadow. "They walk around like zombies."

"That'll be over when the day shift arrives," Alison replied, "and all they'll remember, will be an uneventful, normal night shift."

"And you won't tell me how you did that?"

"No," John replied shortly, "we won't. Alison, you don't happen to know the access code to this building as well?"

She shook her head.

"The guards didn't know. They have no access here. Apparently, the three buildings are off limits even for them."

From the lighter grout in some areas of building 7's wall, one could clearly see that there had once been windows. Now it was a one-story, windowless building with thick brick walls and a saddle roof. They went around the corner towards the entrance. The door was made of solid steel and next to it were a fingerprint scanner and a retina scanner.

"Let me try," Emily said and fished another adapter cable out of her pocket.

She broke the casing open and connected two cables to the electronic parts on a circuit board inside of it. Seconds later, the steel door opened with a click.

"Very much twentieth century, this lock," she commented.

"Won't there be a door alarm?" Lintner asked.

"No," Emily replied as she put the casing back in place, "the system now thinks I'm an authorized person."

"Awesome."

"All right then," John said. "Let's get inside. And close the door behind us, just to be sure."

The lights were out inside and they didn't want to switch them on, so John and Lintner put on their night vision goggles. On first glance, it seemed to be an ordinary office building, deserted at this time of night. Again, there were security cameras and combined motion and infrared sensors but since they weren't triggered both at the same time, they remained inactive. As they walked down the hallway, though, they noticed that this building also contained bedrooms with six bunks in each one, bathrooms and a kitchen. Apparently, at least some of the workers spent their night here during the week.

"Aren't these detectors kinda useless if we can walk around without triggering them?" Lintner asked.

"Not at all," Cameron replied, "the double-checking prevents false alarms. In normal clothes, we'd already be busted. But not with these special camouflage suits. Currently, we're the only ones using them. The U.S. military is still thinking whether it should invest several hundred millions to buy them."

"If you ask me, they should do it. These things clearly save lives."

"Then our advantage sooner or later would be gone," John pointed out. "Let's enjoy it while we have this unique asset."

They entered an open-plan office with dozens of computer workstations, all in standby mode.

"Which one to choose?" John asked with a sigh.

"The work station in the manager's office probably has the highest security clearance," Emily pointed out.

They quickly walked through the large room until they reached the manager's office. The metal sign on the door read Brandon Carver.

"That's the name the guard told me," Alison stated, "their commanding officer."

The locking mechanism next to the door was similar to the one at the entrance, and Emily was equally fast in opening it. They entered the office and Emily sat down at the desk. The PC was still running, so she switched on all three monitors.

"Do you notice something?" Lintner asked, looking around.

"No," John replied, "what?"

"Have you ever worked in an office?"

"Can't say I have."

"No wonder you don't see it."

John sighed.

"All right, what is it?"

"There are no pictures on the walls, no personal items, no decorations on the desk. Just the naked furniture, a computer and three monitors. This office isn't personalized at all. And neither were the workstations outside. You'd think people would make themselves as comfortable as possible if you cut them off from daylight like this. Which means these people either don't plan on staying for very long or they have been forbidden to put anything personal on their desks because it might make them vulnerable."

"Vulnerable?"

"Yes. Let's say we get a search warrant. There's a lot you can tell about somebody when you carefully look at their desk without even asking them - the pictures they place, the calendar they use, the way they keep order or not, how they've personalized their desktop..."

"I guess you have to be a police officer to think like that."

"Maybe."

"John, Alex," Emily said, and everyone looked at her.

She sat on the swivel chair and looked at the three monitors on the manager's desk. They showed pictures from security cameras in buildings 7, 8 and 9 - each monitor stood for one of the buildings. The left and right monitors were connected to buildings 7 and 9 and showed only dark images. There was no activity. The middle one, however, showed the camera feeds from building 8, and that one was brightly lit. There was also a lot of activity. It seemed to be a kind of production line with its associated forge, in which metals were melted down and then cast into shape. People in white overalls and with yellow helmets on their heads worked there. And it could clearly be seen that barcodes were printed on the front and back of their overalls.

"This system seems to be similar to the one we found in charm acres," John observed with a frown. "The one where Derek said it looked like a Skynet work camp."

"Yes, it's a similar layout," Alison confirmed. "The person who observes it can zoom in on the barcode on the clothing and identify the worker. This is how Future John and Kyle Reese fled the Century Work Camp - swapping overalls with workers from another shift to fool the guards. They believed they had appeared normally to their shift, while in reality they took control of the facility and then liberated all the prisoners. It later served as a textbook example for all Grays, so that it wouldn't happen again."

"What the hell is that?" Lintner asked and pointed on one of the many small pictures on the screen.

It was a little blurred but showed something that made the hairs on John's neck stand up.

"Is that…?" he asked.

"Yes," Cameron confirmed. "I'd say it's similar to the early T-1's – only heavily armored."

The picture showed a tracked vehicle with a vertical superstructure and something that looked like a head on top, carrying a series of cameras and sensors. Attached to its sides were two arms with Gatling cannons, apparently being able to swivel in all directions. The vehicle was about three meters high and was constantly moving along the outer edge of the hall, circling the production line in the middle together with two more of its kind, as they now noticed. They seemed to be very heavily armored and were painted in camouflage colors.

"Now I wish you'd brought your ATGs," John said.

"What are those things?" Lintner asked. "Robots on tank treads?"

"Yes," Alison confirmed, "battlefield robots with a titanium alloy chassis. They were designed by a company called Cyber Research Systems. CRS used to develop weapons for the U.S. military in order to replace human soldiers on the battlefield. After Judgement Day, the T-1 prototypes became the paragons for Skynet's hunter killers and Terminators. All future intelligent machines are based on those prototypes. One could say those machines in there are our oldest ancestors."

"So, these things are from the future?" Lintner asked.

"No," John replied, "nothing that big can travel back in time, not to mention that it has no biological shell. It must have been built here, probably by CRS, like she said."

"We know from our contacts in the Pentagon that the development of these battlefield robots was stopped after we exposed the Shadow Council," Cameron added. "All existing prototypes in America were destroyed, but obviously these three were somehow shipped here before that happened – probably by Kaliba."

"They can do that without anyone noticing?" Lintner asked doubtfully.

"They were able to smuggle a Russian warhead into Los Angeles," John argued.

"Point taken. So… CRS is the company that built the first Terminators?"

"No," Alison replied. "Skynet built the first Terminators, based on the CRS prototypes. After going online, Skynet quickly took over all the computers it could find – including those of Cyber Research Systems."

"Do these things have artificial intelligence?"

"They're running autonomously, following a program," Emily explained. "At this early stage of development, they have just a very rudimentary A.I. They're also not yet made of coltan hyperalloy, but of a titanium alloy that is very resilient, nevertheless. They're not to be underestimated. Electric shocks cannot harm them and they're very heavily armored. They already have a very effective sensor array and their 20 millimeter Gatling cannons are probably loaded with armor-piercing ammunition, I'd say depleted uranium. They can turn them very swiftly in all directions."

"In short, we better avoid them," John summarized.

"Yes," Cameron confirmed. "I know our new endoskeletons can take a lot but not sure about that kind of firepower."

"Aren't those killer robots a bit of an overkill for protecting a factory building?" Lintner asked.

"Not if you assume that their purpose is to protect the production against more than just humans," Alison pointed out.

"What do you..." Lintner started asking, then looked at the three girls. "Right, gotcha."

"They know that not all Terminators were sent back in time by Skynet," John explained. "And in recent months, we also have become a threat to them. The whole world knows about us by now. Everyone knows about the famous _Los Angeles Cyborg Girls. _If even the street boys in Marrakesh know that, so will Kaliba and the Grays. My guess is these things are the best they could come up with to defend themselves against cyborgs if their operation here would be discovered."

"It also explains why all the guards are armed with armor-piercing ammo and walk with dogs," Emily said. "Dogs hate Terminators and can detect them from far away. If we wouldn't have Alison..."

"When they later analyze how their security system failed, though," John argued, "they'll get a hunch that Terminators exist who they didn't know about until now, and that their normal security measures can't do anything against them - hopefully."

"True," Alison admitted. "But even if they knew what I am and what I can do, they wouldn't be able to do much about it."

"Also true," John acknowledged.

Emily plugged herself into the computer and started scanning the system.

"And?" John asked after a moment. "What can you tell us?"

"This is another standalone system with no outside connection," she replied. "It controls the alarm system of the entire factory. Which is good because I can delete all camera footage of our intrusion here before we go. I'm now accessing the files about the production…"

She turned her head and looked up at John.

"They're producing drones."

"Drones?"

"Yes, like the one at _Desert Canyon Heat and Air_. Apparently, the site in Charm Acres was only the research facility for producing a prototype they could experiment with. Mass production was to happen here."

"Yeah, that shed in the desert was definitely too small for something like that," John agreed. "But what are they planning to do with those drones?"

"I can find signed pre-orders from all over the world, especially from the Arab world and the Middle East - but also from South America, Asia and Africa. It looks as if Kaliba has approached all corrupt, dictatorial regimes they could find. Building 8 contains the production line, building 9 is a warehouse – and it's almost completely filled up with drones – 3,456, to be exact, still counting. Production is running day and night at full speed."

"Jeez…" John exclaimed. "What are they planning to do with them? Starting a war?"

"These drones aren't meant for that," Emily replied. "They're not hunter killers – yet. They can only carry small weapons. But thanks to their sensors and their silent flight, they're extremely useful for reconnaissance and for eliminating individual targets. They're also perfect instruments of terror for regimes that want to control their population. They can scan for life signs, look into buildings and record conversations from hundreds of meters away. Also, they can change direction like a fly if necessary, so it will be extremely difficult to bring them down and even if you shoot at them, their coltan hyperalloy body will protect them."

"This proves once and for all that Kaliba and the Grays have teamed up to produce advanced weapons, using Skynet technology. The evidence is in this computer system."

"Correct," Emily agreed. "That kind of technology shouldn't be in the hands of anyone."

"Except yours, you mean," Lintner argued. "Catherine Weaver is producing such drones as we speak in those Babylon Labs, isn't she?"

John and the girls looked at each other.

"Right," John admitted.

"Thought so," Lintner said with a smirk.

"We're not applying double standards," Cameron pointed out, "we don't sell our technology to dictatorial regimes. We don't plan on spying on the population and we won't let it fall into the wrong hands. That's why we're keeping our advanced technology a secret."

"John," Emily said, "I just found protected files on this PC that suggest that in the future the production of larger drones is planned, which can also carry missiles and bombs. There are no concrete construction plans yet, though, only drafts."

John groaned and looked at Lintner.

"That's it. We can't allow that to happen, we'll have to destroy this place."

"No!" Lintner contradicted, "absolutely not! There are people working in there right now and it would make everything public what happened here. We couldn't swipe it under the rug. Do you want that?"

"No," John admitted, "That would be contra productive. Nobody must learn about what's been going on here. At least not in detail."

"Then you have to find another solution."

John looked at his three wives.

"Well, is there another solution that doesn't involve blowing up the place?"

"I can plant a virus that will destroy all data and all blueprints on the computer system the moment somebody accesses it," Emily said. "It will also multiply and infect any other computer that will be connected to this one and destroy them as well if somebody tries to access the files."

"Good idea," John said, "do it."

"And I think I can modify the onboard software of the drones," she added, "ordering them to self-destruct the moment they go into operation. They're being programmed via Wi-Fi."

"You mean they'd still blow up, but in the faces of the buyers when they're being delivered and activated?"

"Exactly."

"Neat."

"That would certainly result in some complaints," Lintner agreed. "People would want their money back and Kaliba would have a serious reputation problem among their shady customers."

"That's what we want, isn't it? Ruining their reputation is the best way of bringing them down. And in the meantime, the German police could make a raid on the factory here. We could clear the way for them tonight."

"Excellent idea," Lintner agreed. "See? Blowing up stuff isn't always the answer."

"But it's less satisfying," Alison argued.

Lintner rolled his eyes.

"There's one big challenge, though," Emily stated.

"What challenge?"

"The computer that programs the drones, is not within this system. It must be in the production hall. We need to get in there. And we need to do it with the production running and without causing an alarm."

"What about those T-1 prototypes?" John asked.

"Obviously, we have to avoid them."

"Great," John said a little sarcastically. "Any idea how to get in there without being seen?"

"The factory has an underground network of tunnels and hallways for supply lines, waste water and heating, connecting the different buildings with each other. The entrances and exits to buildings 7, 8 and 9 were walled up with concrete - except for one tunnel. That tunnel connects the production hall with the warehouse. It's how they move the finished product into storage, using autonomous cargo vehicles."

"So, we first have to break into the warehouse and can then go from there into the production hall?" John asked.

"Yes, hopefully. The information on this computer isn't complete."

"That sounds rather vague and complicated," Lintner remarked. "Why not simply break through the walled up tunnel entrances?"

"We don't have any explosives or other necessary equipment with us," Alison explained. "And even if we did, it would cause a lot of noise and tremor. We don't know how sophisticated the sensors on those prototype T-1's are, but it's safe to assume they'd notice that. And even if they wouldn't, the human workers surely would. There are currently twenty-seven of them working the night shift, all of them probably civilians who could get into the line of fire in case of an alarm. Of course, if you say they're expendable…"

"Okay-okay-okay, I get the message."

"So, how do we get into the warehouse?" John asked.

"There's a hatch on the roof," Emily replied. "An emergency exit in case of a fire. It's massive but I think we can rip it out. I can disconnect it from the alarm system from here."

"Okay, then do it."

"Already done while we were talking. And the virus is planted on this system now as well. It'll activate as soon as Brandon Carver tries to access any files on his computer."

"Excellent, let's go then. No need to waste any time."

**-0-**

On board the _Rising Star_, everyone had returned from their Hamburg excursion. They'd visited many of the sights, had lunch and dinner in nice restaurants, and drove back after visiting the legendary Hamburg red-light district. Before everyone went to bed, though, the chef approached Sarah.

"Yes, René, what is it?" she asked.

"I'm sorry for bringing this up, but we need to keep an exact record of our supplies. If something is taken, we have to know about it, so that we can put it on the shopping list. We only discovered it by chance when we did a routine inventory today."

Sarah looked at him with a puzzled face.

"What are you talking about?"

"The missing supplies. The biscuits aren't so bad but sooner or later we would miss the ham, the cheese, and the fresh fruit. Don't misunderstand me, Miss Dixon, everyone on board can of course help themselves from the pantry, but we must know it then."

"Uh… yeah.. sure. Thank you for bringing it to my attention, René. I'm gonna mention it at the breakfast table."

"Thank you, Miss Dixon."

"Not a problem."

Sarah went to their suite with a frown on her face, wondering who would wander around the ship and plunder the food supply. Everyone on board had access to food at all times at the push of a button, even late at night. There was no reason to enter the pantry.

**-0-**

They'd used an external fire escape for climbing onto the roof of the warehouse and were now standing in front of the hatch, which would allow them access. It was a massive steel hatch and safely anchored in the concrete roof.

"And you're absolutely sure about disabling the alarm system for this?" Lintner asked again.

"Yes," Emily replied. "Normally, it should be electrified."

She knelt and touched the metal hatch and the roof next to it.

"See? I'm grounded but nothing happened. Alison, Cam, will you give me a hand?"

By joining forces, the three cyborgs succeeded in tearing the massive steel plate from its concrete anchorage. It seemed to weigh more than a ton. Emily was the first to jump down through it.

"Are you coming or what?" her voice could be heard from the inside.

John looked at Lintner

"After you," he said with a smirk.

Lintner took a deep breath and climbed inside. There was a steel ladder that ended on a metal walkway which extended under the ceiling, more than fifteen meters above the ground, and led to the side wall of the warehouse. The warehouse itself was pitch dark. John and Lintner put the night vision goggles back on and saw that the tall building was filled almost to the ceiling with stacked containers. One of them was still open and they could see that there was room for ten drones in each container, each one neatly wrapped to prevent any damage on the long journey.

"That's 346 containers," Alison counted. "Almost all of them filled and sealed."

"They've been busy," John remarked in a low voice.

"Must have taken them months," Lintner agreed.

"Yeah, they probably have begun right after Desert Canyon Heat and Air was blown up. This also explains why they were so willing to destroy their prototype drone by crashing it into Catherine's office."

"Yes," Cameron agreed, "It was equal parts destruction of evidence and advertising for their future customers."

Quietly, they went to the side wall of the warehouse, where they found a metal staircase that they carefully descended.

"Anyone in here?" John whispered.

Alison shook her head.

"There are no life signs in this building. During the night shift, employees only seem to be in the production hall. But there are those combined motion and infrared detectors in here as well."

"I wonder if we'll ever have it this easy again once our enemies found out about these camouflage suits."

"Well, the virus I planted, will also delete all recordings of the security cameras if someone tries to access them," Emily stated. "So, our secret should still be safe for a while."

"I hope you're right."

They arrived on the floor of the warehouse and looked around. Further ahead they saw a ramp leading underground and out of the building. It was barred by a big, solid metal gate.

"This must be the entrance to the tunnel they use to bring the finished drones from the production hall to the warehouse," Lintner said. "The gate looks massive. Any idea how to get through?"

Before anyone could reply, an alarm blared, and a yellow light started flashing on the wall over their heads.

"Shit!" John exclaimed and ripped off his night vision set. "Have we been detected?"

"No," Emily replied. "Can't be. None of the detectors were triggered."

They took cover behind a stack of pallets and saw the steel gate to the tunnel opening. An autonomous cargo vehicle came through it, transporting a freshly finished and nicely wrapped drone. The vehicle also had a yellow flashing light mounted on it and automatically steered into an isle between the rows of containers. Behind it, the gate to the tunnel closed again. Once it had reached its destination, an automated crane lifted the drone from the cargo vehicle and placed it in the only still open container.

"Do you think what I'm thinking?" John asked.

"It's risky," Emily replied.

"Will those T-1s see us?"

"The chances are slim when we remain still," Alison said . "In our suits, we'll be protected from their infrared scanners. There's a higher risk that the humans detect us."

"I'd say it's all or nothing," John said and rose from his cover.

"What is he doing?" Lintner asked.

"He's hitching a ride," Emily replied and stood up to follow her husband.

"What!?"

"John is doing these things," Cameron simply stated and got up as well.

"This is the coltan truck all over again," Alison commented, "but this time, we're with him."

She also followed the three and left Lintner no choice but to follow them as well. After a few moments, the now empty autonomous cargo vehicle returned to the ramp. All five jumped onto its cargo bed and pressed themselves flat on their bellies. If they were lucky and didn't move, they would hopefully not be noticed until the vehicle reached its parking position, where it would probably wait for the next finished drone.

Their ride through the tunnel seemed to last for an eternity. Finally, they reached the gate at the opposite end, which opened automatically before them. They drove into the basement of building 8, which contained the forge. Immediately they were bathed in heat and extremely loud noise. Huge filter and cooling systems kept the air breathable. Fortunately, the cargo vehicle moved directly to a freight elevator that lifted them up to the production level.

Building 8 was one hundred and fifty meters long and fifty meters wide. The main factory floor was ten meters high. In the middle of it was the production line with the humans working in it. On the opposite wall was a structure of stacked office containers that rose up to the ceiling. On a path around the production line, the T1s patrolled the hall. Their tracks had left their traces in the concrete floor.

John, Lintner and the three cyborg girls observed how the finished parts from the forge were transported up there and then put together by industrial robots. Sparks from the welding filled the air. It was still loud but not as loud as in the forge below. Everything seemed to happen fully automatically, and the humans only seemed to have a control function. They were walking up and down the hall, checking monitors and parts of the production line, only having eyes for their work, being constantly watchful not to cross the path of the three T-1s.

"The control center is up there," Emily said and pointed at the stacked office containers on the opposite wall. "We need to get there. Without being seen, if possible."

"This building is built like a bunker," Alison observed, "the exterior walls and ceiling are more than one meter thick and made of reinforced concrete. There's a main gate on the east side, made of ten-centimeter strong armored steel. In the tunnel we came through, similar gates can be closed to hermetically seal off the whole building. A war could break out in here and nobody would notice it on the outside."

"Maybe that's the idea," John remarked.

The cargo vehicle followed a pre-programmed path. Everyone held their breath as they passed a group of workers who didn't pay any attention to what was happening around them. They finally reached a small recess below the office section, a niche of sorts, just under a meter high. There, the vehicle connected to a loading station. Slowly and carefully, all five stowaways climbed off and crouched towards the opening of the recess.

"We need to go over there," Emily said and pointed towards a narrow corridor between the office containers about ten meters to their left. "There's a flight of stairs leading to the upper levels between the containers and the outside wall. It's hidden from view."

She had barely said that when one of the T-1's turned around the corner. They quickly pulled back into the recess. Fortunately, it didn't detect them as it rolled by just in front of them.

"I analyzed their patrol pattern," Alison stated. "The building has four walls but there are only three T-1s. That means there is a five-second blind spot. We can't go all at once, but it should be enough for one person at a time."

"All right, can you tell us when to run?" John asked.

"Yes."

"Good. Cam, Emily, you go first. Then Alex, followed by me and finally Alison. If anything goes wrong, spread chaos."

"You got it, John," Cameron replied. "Ready when you are, sis."

Alison nodded.

"In three… two… one… go!"

One after the other, they ran towards the narrow hallway on Alison's mark, and took cover out of sight of the workers and the T-1's. Finally, it was Alison's turn. But before she could jump up and run, the cargo vehicle behind her began to move again. It pushed into her back and, detecting the obstacle, stopped. A warning sound blared. Quickly, Alison stepped to the side and went to the very back of the flat recess, hiding in the shadow while the vehicle moved away.

Seconds later, two workers in white overalls appeared at the opening of the recess and quickly glanced inside. Alison prepared to release her chemical messengers, but apparently they didn't see her in her light-absorbing camouflage suit.

"Was war das?" the first one asked.

"Keine Ahnung, wahrscheinlich wieder falscher Alarm," the other one replied. "Du weißt doch, dieser Schrott geht dreimal am Tag kaputt."

„Ja, was für'n Scheiß. Die würden besser funktionieren, wenn wir Zeit für eine vernünftige Wartung hätten."

„Du hast doch gehört, was der Chef gesagt hat: Die Lieferung geht heute raus. Danach haben wir genug Zeit für Reparaturen."

„Trotzdem scheiße, das Ganze. Die Amis zahlen ja gut aber dieser ganze Stress geht mir allmählich an die Substanz."

„Wenigstens dauert es nicht mehr lange."

The two walked away again. Alison waited until the right moment, then ran after the others.

"What kept you?" John asked after she joined them again.

"Humans complaining about their work," she replied. "And I learned that today a shipment of drones will go out, probably by train."

"We're definitely not too early," Lintner commented. "All right, what now?"

"Follow me," Emily said and ran to the stairs that led them to the second floor.

There, they encountered one of those doors with fingerprint and retina scanners again. Emily opened it routinely and they entered another data center. Immediately, she plugged herself into the main work station.

"We're lucky," she said after a moment. "This system is used to install the software on the drones. The algorithms are primitive by our standards, but very advanced for this time."

"Can you hack it and install the virus on all drones in the warehouse?"

"Yes, they all have individual addresses. But it will take a while to upload it all."

"How long?"

"Half an hour."

"Okay, do it."

**-0-**

Brandon Carver stopped his red Porsche 911 at the petrol station's parking lot opposite the north gate. He hadn't been able to sleep, his mind too occupied. Today was the big day, the shipping day. It's what they'd been working towards for months under the strictest secrecy. And then, two weeks before the big delivery, the BKA had managed to infiltrate them with an undercover agent. Fortunately, they had discovered and eliminated him before he could find out anything important. Nevertheless, after the shipping of the drones was done, it was time to set up a new production site somewhere else, it was no longer safe here.

Being so restless, he realized it was futile to try and sleep. So he'd decided to drive to his office. He had that habit sometimes, the guards knew about it. They also knew that he preferred to park his car outside the factory, just in case someone was putting down the license plates of cars entering it. Before he crossed the street towards the gate, he frowned as he saw a VW Multivan also parked at the petrol station. The license plate and the _"Diesel only"_ sticker on the filler cap told him it was a rental. Strange, did it belong to one of the security guards? Normally, they all parked their cars inside the factory grounds at the beginning of their shift when the west gate was still open.

Traffic was practically non-existent at this time of night. Housing estates were several hundred meters away. In the immediate vicinity there were only two smaller medium-sized companies, a tire dealer, a supermarket and the company's own sewage treatment plant. The supermarket and the petrol station closed at ten o'clock in the evening, after that it was practically like in the morgue there. Carver quickly crossed the street and walked up to the guardhouse. It was freezing cold outside, so he was glad to be welcomed by the warmth inside the glassed cabin.

"Jeez, it's getting colder every night," he said and held his hands over the radiator. "I so much prefer Southern California over this."

Then he noticed that none of the guards said something. In fact, they seemed to be ignoring him.

"Is everything all right?" he asked with a frown. "Were there any incidents?"

The guards however remained silent and did not seem to notice him at all.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" he exclaimed a little angrily and turned one of them around on his chair, snapping his finger in front of his face.

But the man just stoically turned back in his original position. Carver turned him around again and slapped him in the face. Again, no reaction.

"What the fuck is going on here!?" he asked, receiving no answer.

He left the guardhouse and entered the factory, using his key card, looking around in both directions, he then noticed one of the patrols approaching.

"YOU THERE!" he shouted. "STOP!"

But the patrolling guards with their dog just passed him by as if he was non-existent. He grabbed one of them by his arm and spun him around, almost making him lose his balance. The man stared at him blankly, like a robot. Even the dog acted like it was in some kind of trance. Whatever was going on here, Carver didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. He pulled out his cellphone and dialed a number.

"Finnegan!" he said. "What? … Yes, yes, I know what time it is. I need the on-call guards and I need them now ... What? ... No, all of them, I need all of them. Something weird is going on here, I have to get to the bottom of it, and I'm not going to do it alone. How many men can you summon? … Twenty? Is that all? … All right, it'll have to do then … Listen, I don't care, I want them here, that's an order, Lieutenant! ... Then just ring them out of bed, I'll pay a bonus for that ... Yes ... Ten minutes? All right but hurry up! I have a really bad feeling!"

He put away his cellphone and made his way towards building 7. Upon entering, he noticed that the casing of the card reader was loose. Somebody must have tampered with it. Carver pulled out his gun, a nine-millimeter Beretta, and entered the office building. With growing discomfort, he made his way through the open-plan office, quietly, listening to every sound. But there was nothing. He saw that the card reader next to his office door had also been tampered with and entered the room. He immediately noticed that his desk chair, which was normally neatly slid under the desk, was protruding. Somebody must have pulled it out.

With growing panic, he switched on the three computer monitors. He skimmed over the images from the security cameras. At first glance, everything seemed to be in order. But then he saw masked figures dressed completely in black in the IT area of the production hall. They were so black in fact, that the light was almost completely absorbed, as if they were spectres. He could only make out their silhouettes – two males and three females, with one of the females sitting at the main work station. They were intruders, no doubt about it, and they were tampering with the computer system!

Carver didn't hesitate a second, he clicked on the alarm button on his PC.

But nothing happened. He pressed the mouse button again and again. He tried to access his system preferences, but the system didn't respond. Neither did the firewall or the antivirus software. Then, one by one, the pictures of the cameras were switched off. Cursing loudly, he realized that the PC must have been hacked and infected with a virus. He dove under the desk and pulled out the power cable in the hope that it was still in time before more damage was done.

However, when he walked out of his office, he saw that all the other work stations were powering down. Whatever it was, it had infected the whole system. Cursing, he walked back into the hallway and in a locker room where he opened his locker, pulled out a bulletproof vest, put it on and grabbed a Barrett M82 .50 caliber sniper rifle, as well as three magazines full of Raufoss Mk 211 tungsten ammo. He didn't know it, but it was the same rifle and ammunition Derek Reese had used months ago in Carlsbad to take out a Triple-Eight who was sent to kill Martin Bedell. Carver shouldered the gun, then went back outside, walking towards the north gate again to wait for the approaching reinforcements.

**-0-**

"Looks like they're producing the last drone right now," Emily said. "This completes the batch that's to be shipped in the morning. The containers will be loaded onto several trains over the next two days. The destination is Rotterdam, where they'll be loaded onto a container carrier heading for Abu Dhabi in the Persian Gulf."

"Are you sure it wouldn't be better to destroy the drones as long as they're still in one place?" John asked, looking at Lintner.

"I don't want that happening here," the BKA agent insisted.

John sighed and looked at Emily.

"All right. How far are you with uploading the virus?"

"Ninety-five percent done. Waiting for the last drone to be finished and stored. The virus will not only make them self-destruct when they're activated, but also when somebody tried to access their system or starts to disassemble them."

"Excellent. As soon as the last drone has been fitted with the virus, we'll get the hell out of here."

"What about those killer robots?" Lintner asked. "We can't just leave them here fully functional, can we? We have to somehow disable them, right?"

John looked at Cameron and Alison. The two shrugged in reply.

"We'll do our best," they said in unison and Lintner asked himself what they meant by that.

**-0-**

After the men of the night watch had obviously become completely useless for some reason, the on-call watch had arrived to replace them. After a short briefing, everyone had geared up in the armory. Now they were in the process of strategically distributing themselves throughout the area according to their boss' instructions.

In the meantime, Brandon Carver had climbed the roof of the factory's tallest building, an old, seven-story office building. It was three hundred meters away from building 8 as the crow flies and offered an excellent overview. Carver didn't know it, but it was the same place from which Alison had previously scouted the factory. Like her, he had chosen this place because it gave him an unobstructed view of Buildings 7, 8 and 9. It offered him a clear shot on anyone who left there and - in case he had to run - he could use the old ladder for the chimney sweep as an escape route out of the factory and be back at his car before anyone would be cable to get up on the roof.

"You're right, boss," Finnegan said as he joined Carver up there. "The whole night watch seems to be drugged or something. They react to nothing and keep doing stoically what they've been doing all the time. They're like automatons. There's no use in trying to stop them. Any idea what happened to them and who the five intruders are?"

"No, and frankly I don't care, as long as it doesn't happen again. Your men are all in position?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good."

"Sir, if I may ask…?"

"Not now, Finnegan."

"Yes, Sir."

Carver pulled out a cellphone and dialed a number,

"Chief Engineer Bauer, this is Carver... Yes, I know it's late, but I couldn't sleep. I was nervous, you know. Were there any incidents? ... Nothing? ... Uh-huh ... The production is complete? ... Very good ... Everything prepared for the shipment of the merchandise? ... This is excellent news. I will praise your work when I speak to _Shiva_ and the board... You're welcome ... Good night."

Carver pulled out what looked like a PDA.

"May I ask what you're planning to do?" Finnegan asked.

"Killing two birds with one stone. Originally, we wanted to lay off the workforce after the delivery of the merchandise, but maybe it's better to antedate the whole thing. Go and join your man, make sure nothing gets out of that building."

"Yes, Sir."

Finnegan left. Carver smiled and pressed a few buttons on his PDA. He hoped the three females were who he thought they were. It would give him a personal satisfaction to take them out one by one. He didn't know how but he was sure they were responsible for the disappearances of Roger Gonzalez and Walter Kowalski.

**-0-**

"That's strange," Emily said.

"What?" John asked.

"The building is sealing itself."

"Sealing?"

"Yes, getting airtight. The tunnel is also sealing up."

"What did you do?"

"I did nothing."

"Can you stop and reverse it?"

"No, it's being controlled externally."

"Damn! We're busted!"

Suddenly, there was a hissing noise.

"What's that?" Lintner asked and looked around.

"Nerve gas!" Alison exclaimed. "John, Alex, come here, I need to protect you!"

* * *

Down in production, the technicians and engineers suddenly began to cough spasmodically. Blood was running out of their mouths. Then the cramps began, causing the men to fall down and bend in pain. Finally, a respiratory paralysis occurred, and after a few more seconds they were all dead. With the production having come to a standstill before, an eerie silence filled the hall, only disturbed by the noise of the T-1 prototypes that still did their rounds unfazed. John, Lintner and the three cyborg girls had watched it with horror through a window from above.

"Oh my God…" Lintner stated as he realized the extent of what just happened. "Was that us? Did we trigger something?"

"No," Emily stated categorically. "As I said, it must have been triggered externally. I found nothing about a self-destruct system on the computer. You would be dead as well if Alison hadn't given you an antidote to the gas."

"Who does such a thing? They were civilians, certainly many of them have a family!"

"Somebody who wants no witnesses," John said bitterly, then turned towards his wives. "Any idea how to get out of here?"

Alison and Cameron shook their heads.

"These walls and gates are far too thick and solid even for me to punch through," Alison said.

"The only way I can think of, is out of the chimney," Cameron added, but the furnace down below is still burning, it's probably several hundred degrees Celsius in there."

"No, thanks," Lintner said, "I'd prefer not to get out of here in a gaseous state."

"Well, there would be another way," Emily stated.

Everyone looked at her.

"What way?" John asked.

"Using _them_," she simply replied and pointed at the patrolling T-1 prototypes down below.

John had a sense of foreboding.

"You want to use their firepower to break through the main gate?"

"Their Gatling guns are loaded with armor-piercing twenty-millimeter ammunition. Each one can easily carry three thousand rounds. A single shot wouldn't make a difference but lots of them at the same spot... those guns can fire up to 6,000 rounds per minute."

"I like your thinking, but how…?"

"They're on tracks, John, and they lack real arms," Alison explained, obviously having understood Emily's plan. "Which means they cannot get upright again once they've fallen to their side."

"They would probably be completely disoriented and confused, as far as you can say that of such a primitive, rudimentary A.I..."

"Then it would be a piece of pie to plug myself into their system and reprogram them to do our bidding."

"Piece of cake, Em, piece of cake."

"Right."

"Primitive?" Lintner asked. "Rudimentary? They look quite advanced to my eyes."

"Oh, they are… for your time," Cameron answered. "But to us, they are what a Ford Model T is compared to a current Mercedes S-Class."

"For calling these things your ancestors, you speak quite disrespectfully of them..."

"They're the sad remains of a future that no longer exists. They've lost their place in history. It is best we carry them to their graves - figuratively speaking."

"So, what's your plan?" John asked. "Playing hide and seek and then grab them and topple them over when they pass you by?"

"Something like that, yes," Emily confirmed, "they can't weigh more than three tons."

"Yeah, piece of cake," Lintner commented, shaking his head. "Sorry, but sometimes I forget who I'm with."

**-0-**

Brandon Carver lay on the ground, his big sniper rifle at the ready like a hunter who's waiting for the game to step out into the clearing. Suddenly, his walkie-talkie crackled to life.

"_Sir?"_

"Yes, what is it, Finnegan?"

"_Sir, it's been fifteen minutes, they should be dead now. The gas should have volatilized. Shouldn't we go in and take a look?"_

"No. They're not all dead and I'm quite sure they'll find a way out. Concentrate on the exhaust shafts and the chimney. When their human companions are dead, they will try to escape there. As soon as you see them, open fire, don't let them come close."

"_Yes, Sir, I remember Terminators from the future, don't worry. All my men are in position."_

"Very good. Stay calm, this'll be over soon, and then we can go home to warm California."

"_Yes, Sir."_

**-0-**

Cameron, Alison and Emily had positioned themselves at hidden places within the production line on three of the four corners of the factory building. Each of them was now waiting for one of the T-1s to pass by. As soon as that happened, they jumped out of their cover and before the machines could react, they had grabbed them, lifted them up and overturned them. With a loud clonk, they landed on their sides.

All this happened in less than five seconds. The helpless battlefield robots desperately tried to straighten up like a tortoise on its back, but unsuccessfully. Their side-mounted cannons were blocked by their own weight, the servos not strong enough to lift up their weight. But their heads with the sensors could still turn, and they really seemed to be disoriented and confused. The three girls quickly pulled one of the cables from the machines' heads, separating their higher functions from the power unit, and their motions stopped. Then they gave John and Lintner a sign.

"So now what?" John asked. "Do these things have a USB socket or what?"

"Actually," Emily said and pulled out her adapter cable again, "they have."

She opened a flap at the back of the head of the T-1 they were standing next to, revealing an access port.

"How do you want me to program them, John?"

"I want them to fire at the gate until there's a big enough opening for them to break through, then let them move outside."

"You got it."

"If you're right and somebody found out about us being in here," Lintner pointed out, "then a whole squat of snipers will probably await us out there – in case the gas hasn't killed us."

"You know what," John said smiling, "the thought has occurred to me. Emily, also program them to return fire against anyone who shoots at them."

"Righto, John."

She plugged herself in and began reprogramming the killer robot. When she was finished with the first one, she started doing the same with the other two T-1s.

"Didn't we agree on sparing lives?" Lintner asked in a resigned tone.

"Look around, Alex," John replied, "look at the dead bodies of the workers. We didn't start this. If you want to bring those responsible to justice, you have to get out of here alive – and that might not be possible without shedding some blood. Those are Grays out there, they're used to fight for their lives and will not simply raise their hands when you show them a badge."

Lintner sighed.

"I know... and it's frustrating. I wish we could do it differently - and better."

"Think of the bigger picture. We have to create as much damage as we can to their organization, and that is best done with letting the drones explode in the face of their customers. I suggest you wait until the shipping is done before you come back with a search warrant."

"What about local police? If there's a gunfight, won't they be alarmed?" Cameron asked.

"I don't think so," Lintner replied. "The first houses are at least three hundred meters away. Knowing my fellow German citizens, they won't bother to get out of bed when they're being wakened by some bangs. Remember, this isn't America, guns are rare here and gun fights almost never happen, especially not here in the provinces. Before anyone suspects gunfire, they will rather assume there were misfires or some youths, playing with firecrackers."

"I hope you're right," John replied with a sigh.

"I'm finished with reprogramming them," Emily reported, rejoining them.

"How will we know it worked?" Lintner asked.

"We'll know it didn't work when they reboot and start firing at us," Cameron replied dryly.

"That's comforting."

"Relax," John said, "come, let's get back into the office section. This is going to be loud. And girls, one more thing…"

**-0-**

Up on the roof, slowly but surely the cold crept into Brandon Carver's limbs. Lying on the bare roofing felt wasn't particularly clever at minus five degrees Celsius. Suddenly, his walkie-talkie crackled.

"_Something's happening,"_ Finnegan's voice could be heard.

"And what? Be more precise!"

"_It seems that somebody is banging on the metal gate, Very hard. It'd bending."_

"How's that Possible? It was made to withstand even the impact of a semi-truck!"

"_I don't know but… oh my God… it's those T-1 prototypes… they're firing a hole into the steel!"_

"What? Don't talk nonsense, man! They've been programmed to only shoot at moving targets!"

"_Look for yourself. They're breaking through now!"_

The next thing Carver heard, was gunfire. He could see the muzzle flashes in the distance and looked through his rifle scope. What he saw made his blood run cold. Indeed, the three T-1 prototypes broke one by one through a hole in the armored steel gate and rolled out into the yard in front of it. They seemed to have perforated the thick steel with their guns, weakening it, so they could break through with brutal force.

He saw how his men fired at them – damn fools, they're doing what the opposition wants – and of course, the killer robots fired back with deadly precision. The loud droning sound of Gatling guns filled the air before they could be taken out with shots to their heads by armor-breaking ammo. The firefight lasted only ten seconds but was intense, then there was silence again.

"Finnegan!" Carver spoke into the walkie-talkie. "Status report!"

"_We have casualties,"_ Finnegan's voice sounded back to him. "_Five dead and four wounded. But all three robots are down."_

"Acknowledged. Stay in your position."

"_But Sir…"_

"STAY IN YOUR POSITION, DAMMIT!"

"_Yes, Sir."_

Carver looked through his rifle scope again. There was no other way out of the building, they had to come out of that hole in the gate. But where were they?

Then he saw something… but he wasn't sure what it was that he saw. Some kind of ripple in the air. And two shadows that seemed to absorb the light. Suddenly, the scales fell from his eyes. The intruders! They must have come out of the building together with the three T-1s, probably riding them piggyback, scanning the positions where his men were firing from. And while everyone was blinded by the muzzle fire of the Gatling guns, they had dismounted and run for cover!

"FINNEGAN!" he shouted into his walkie-talkie. "It's an ambush, they're coming from behind you! Finnegan!"

But there was no answer for several, very long seconds.

"FINNEGAN!"

Finally, then the walkie-talkie crackled to life.

_"Finnegan can't come to the phone,"_ came a friendly woman's voice from the loudspeaker. _"He's been a bad boy and is grounded for the time being."_

Cursing, Carver pointed his rifle at Finnegan's position and saw a walkie-talkie hovering in midair next to his body, held by what looked like a distortion, similar to a heat flicker. On impulse, he fired a shot at the distortion. It echoed loudly through the night. The bullet was a direct hit. But before he could triumph, Carver saw a woman appear instead of the optical distortion - and she was stark naked. She had a wound on her face that exposed a black skull with a red-glowing eye, but to Carver's astonishment, it was already healing.

"What the…?"

"_That's it,"_ the female voice sounded over the walkie-talkie, and he saw through his rifle scope that she was now looking directly at him, pointing her finger in his direction, _"you're grounded, too."_

Whoever or rather whatever she was, it was clear that his bullets couldn't harm her. So, Carver decided to do the only thing he could do in this situation – retreat. He quickly jumped up, his legs painfully protesting against the sudden movement, and ran, leaving his rifle behind. With any luck, he would be back in his car before they reached the building from where he'd shot at the woman – or whatever she was. Probably some unknown female Terminator he needed to tell his superiors about. They were clearly dealing with a new kind of enemy they hadn't encountered so far. Everyone needed to be warned, especially _Shiva_. While he ran, he heard a single shot in the distance. Carver didn't bother to look who shot at who. He was sure his men were all dead anyway.

**-0-**

John and Lintner watched through one of the soundproofed windows in an office above the factory floor how the three T-1 prototypes opened fire on the massive gate. They used their 20mm Gatling cannons like a cutting torch to shoot a kind of archway into the armor steel.

"Good God," Lintner gasped.

"Seems to work just fine," John commented, squinting against the bright muzzle fire.

After about twenty seconds, the three killer robots ceased fire.

"Time to go," John announced and walked towards the exit. "I hope they still have some ammo left."

Lintner followed him, wondering for the nth time how he ended up in this nightmare. Seconds later, they had reached the factory floor, just as the first of the three T-1s burst through the now weakened gate, tearing out a huge chunk in the process that fell to the ground with a loud clank. John saw that Emily and Cameron had kinda mounted the two robots on their backside and rode outside with them, but Alison was nowhere to be seen. Then gunshots could be heard from outside, and John knew the plan had worked.

While the three T-1 prototypes returned fire, he saw Alison's camouflage suit lying on the ground next to the gate.

"Oh, great," he said as he picked it up, "just great. She's naked again."

"You mean invisible?"

"Not necessarily the same thing, but yeah…"

"Care to explain how she does that?"

"She can use the cells of her artificial skin like a chameleon, becoming one with the scenery – at least as long as she doesn't move too fast."

"So, it's not a force field of some kind, like the Predator uses in those movies?"

"Nope… besides, she'd wipe the floor with the Predator, believe me."

"I believe you."

The gunfire outside died down. They waited for another minute.

"Okay, let's go," John said.

"Don't we need to check first?"

"There are three Terminators out there, two in camouflage suits that absorb most of the light and one who's invisible. If they haven't taken out every one of them by now, you can smack my ass and call me Sally."

"What?"

"Never mind."

They walked outside in the open and took a deep breath in the cold winter air.

"Feels nice after breathing nerve gas," Lintner remarked.

"It surely does. It's gonna take a while to get that flowery smell out of my nose, though."

Suddenly, there was a loud gunshot, and right afterwards, Alison became visible behind a couple of stacked pallets with oil drums on them. It looked like the flesh on the left side of her face had been blown off. John started running towards her.

"Alison!"

She put down the walkie-talkie she was holding and turned to look at him as he and Lintner approached. They could both see how the nanobots were already replacing the missing flesh at a very fast rate. When they were ten meters away, only her eye was still in the process of reforming.

"Get down!" She exclaimed. "There's a sniper up there on the roof!"

John ducked behind the oil drums but Lintner wasn't used to reacting that fast and needed a second longer. In that second, a shot was fired from nearby. Alison spun around and knocked out Finnegan again, who was lying by her feet and had pulled the trigger on his rifle.

"Scheiße…" Lintner uttered and sank to his knees, then fell to the side, a huge entry wound on his tummy and an exit wound on his back.

"Alex has been hit," John said. "Alison, quick."

While Alison knelt over Lintner to administer her nanobots to him, Emily and Cameron also joined them.

"What about the sniper?" John asked. "Is it safe to come out now?"

"He ran," Cameron replied. "Must have realized she wasn't harmed and decided to retreat before we go after him. If he used the ladder towards the street, he's probably gone already."

"Would it make sense to run after him?"

In the distance, they heard a car revving his engine and then they saw a Porsche 911 pass by on the street outside of the west gate.

"I'd say no," Emily stated.

"Damn. Did you incapacitate all the others?"

"Yes," Cameron replied, "not killed, only unconscious and tied up, as you insisted."

"Would have been easier to kill them all, though" Emily added.

"I know," John replied, "but if the drones are to be delivered today, the appearance must remain that everything is normal here."

Lintner coughed.

"Normal appearance?" he croaked while the big wound on his tummy healed. "There are twenty-seven corpses of civilians lying in that factory hall with the damaged gate. How is that normal?"

"How do you feel?" John asked, kneeling by his side.

"Fantastic… the kiss of a beautiful… naked... woman brought me back to life."

"Well, don't get me wrong now, Alex," John replied with a smile, "but I'm grateful that for once I'm not the one who got shot."

He handed the camouflage suit to Alison.

"Here, put that back on again. We can't risk anybody getting blind."

"Not because of me," Lintner uttered and attempted to laugh but winced.

"Lay still," Alison told him, "your spine is still healing, the nanobots will need a few more minutes."

"My… spine?"

"That was an armor-piercing round. It went straight through your body, turning your inner organs into a pulp, shattering the spine."

"Oh, great. Thanks for breaking it to me so gently."

"You're welcome."

"Please, shut up."

While Alison got dressed again, Emily tied up the man who'd fired at Lintner. Then John softly slapped him awake again.

"What?" he asked surprised and frowned as he looked at John who'd pulled the hood from his head. "I know you… you're John Connor."

"His younger self," John confirmed. "And with whom do I have the pleasure?"

The man stiffened and looked stoically ahead.

"My name is Lieutenant Donald Finnegan. My service number is 6B345Z... I'm..."

"All right, shut up. You're not a prisoner of war. As a matter of fact, there won't be a war anymore, in case you haven't noticed."

"Does that… does that mean I won't be court-martialed?"

John rolled his eyes.

"Grays," he uttered. "Listen, buddy… I don't care who you are or what you were in the future. I know you were a Skynet collaborator, but Skynet's gone… Poof! It'll never exist. So, who are you working for now?"

"I… my name is Lieutenant Donald Finnegan. My service number is…"

John sighed and got up.

"Alison, can you tell him to cooperate?"

"Of course, John," she said, knelt and looked Finnegan in the eyes. "Cooperate!"

Then she got up again and walked away towards the other prisoners.

"That was it?" John asked.

"My commanding officer is Major Brandon Carver," Finnegan said hastily. "We were all ordered here from Los Angeles to do guard duty in the factory as long as they're producing those drones."

"So, _you_ know about the drones?"

"Only the command level does. And the workers inside there… uh, used to know it as well. Are they dead now?"

"Quite dead. Do you happen to know who hides behind the alias _Shiva_?"

"Someone on the board of Kincade Capital, that's all I know."

"Who gave the order to release the gas?"

"Major Carver. He was the sniper up on the roof over there. Where is he?"

"Unfortunately, he got away. Any idea where he could run to?"

"There's an emergency escape plan. We all have another set of passports and enough money to get out of the country as quickly as possible. But I've got no idea where he's heading."

"Too bad. How was the delivery of the drones to take place? Who should be involved?"

"It was supposed to begin in two hours, right before the day shift. We have 346 containers to load on ten trains, the whole operation was to happen within the next three days. Carver was to coordinate it while the guards monitored everything. The loading process itself is fully automatic, done by autonomous loading vehicles."

"Could you coordinate it in his place?"

"Yes, I've been briefed, but… you still want the delivery to happen?" Finnegan asked astonished.

"Oh yes," John confirmed. "Can't disappoint paying customers, can we?"

* * *

Half an hour later, Alison, Cameron and Emily had rounded up all the surviving on-call guards, fifteen all in all. The wounded ones had been healed, and the dead ones were loaded into an empty container that stood around in a remote corner on the factory grounds, together with the bodies of the dead technicians and engineers. They'd be found later, when all of this was over. It wasn't nice to get rid of them like that, but they had no choice.

Then they pushed the destroyed T-1s and the part of the destroyed gate inside the factory hall and out of sight. They lowered down the remaining gate to cover up the damage as good as possible. All other employees of H.C. Starck had been instructed to never get close to buildings 7, 8 and 9 and to never ask questions about them – and surely wouldn't start with it now. Last but not least, they cleaned the vicinity from all bullets and empty shell casings, so that the regular guards, who hadn't noticed any of this, wouldn't suspect anything during their patrols. Alison climbed up the roof of the highest building, where she found Carver's abandoned sniper rifle and one empty shell case. She took a sample of the DNA he had left on the rifle and now knew what he looked like. She'd share the information later with the team.

"So, you know the story you are to tell?" John asked Finnegan and his fellow Grays, who had all been treated with Alison's chemical messengers.

"Yes," he replied. "Brandon Carver had to suddenly go abroad and left the responsibility with me. None of the management of H.C. Starck will question my authority. The regular guards will wake up from their trance very soon, testify that it was a very quiet night, and that nothing has happened, if somebody asks. The workers from the factory floor will officially be doing overtime - their families are used to them being at work for a couple of days. While the containers are being loaded on trains, we'll melt down the remains of the T-1 prototypes, dismantle the production line, and destroy all documents that allow conclusions to be drawn about the recipients of the containers. Then we'll inform the police and all of us will confess. We will testify that Brandon Carver is responsible for the dead and that this has been an illegal weapons production. We won't mention your role in all of it. In fact, none of you has ever been here."

John looked at Lintner.

"Satisfied? This should cover it. And it allows you to appear at the scene as part of the investigation, pretending to be completely oblivious to what happened here."

"Satisfied would be the wrong word," Lintner replied sourly, "too many people died for being satisfied. But it's acceptable under the circumstances. There will still be lots of questions, though, especially about all the fatalities. More than thirty dead will make international headlines, especially when it becomes known it was nerve gas."

"Good," John stated, "that's what we want, right? A thorough investigation that makes it even more difficult for Kaliba to maintain their activities."

"I wish we could have achieved it without any deaths, though."

"When you deal with these people, you always have to take into account that there will be fatalities," Alison said to him.

"I'm not in the position to argue," he replied. "Nor am I willing to. Don't get me wrong, though, when I say that our paths hopefully won't cross so soon again, no offense."

"None taken," John, Cameron, Emily and Alison replied simultaneously, then looked at each other and grinned.

**-0-**

**Monday, January 5th, 2009 – 05:35 a.m.**

**Goslar**

John let himself fall onto his bed in his room in the Hotel Kaiserhof.

"God, I need a shower," he said.

"Yes," Cameron confirmed, "you do."

John smirked.

"Care to join me?"

"I dunno," Alison replied, "the shower is very small. Only place for two persons at most."

"Should we draw straws again?" Emily asked with a smirk.

"How about alternating?" John suggested. "Cam starts with my upper body, Alison does the midriff and Emily the lower half."

"Sounds like a plan," Emily replied, "if the lower half includes little John."

John chuckled.

"That's completely up to all of you."

"And afterwards we should definitely find out where the load limit of this bed lies," Alison stated.

"Definitely," John agreed. "But don't forget to rummage through the beds in your own room afterwards. It would attract attention if the maid found the beds untouched."

"He's always thinking of such things," Cameron remarked and started to undress.

"He should better be thinking of different things now," Emily commented and bared her breasts.

"Oh, he is," Cameron remarked, pointing between John's legs. "At least, little John is."

* * *

They met with Alexander Lintner at the breakfast table.

"How did you sleep?" John asked grinning.

"You mean the three hours of tossing and turning, trying to forget what I witnessed? They were great."

"His sarcasm works again, he'll be fine," Alison remarked and bit into a toast.

"Want some bacon?" Emily asked. "It's delicious."

"I'm not hungry. How can you all be so calm after this?"

"Just another day with the Connor team," John replied shrugging and shoved some scrambled eggs into his mouth. "Eventually, you'll get used to this kind of action."

"Not sure I ever want to get used to it."

"Oh, come on," Cameron said, "secretly, you enjoyed it. It was a thrill for you. Admit it."

"I have to say, working with you has been an experience I will never forget. Thinking about who and what we had to deal with… and yet you were all so relaxed and chilled."

"It helps when you have three of the most advanced Terminators in existence with you," John replied with a smile, causing is three wives to look lovingly at him.

"Having witnessed their abilities, I'm forced to agree," Lintner replied.

"Anything about the gunfire at night?" John asked.

"Nope. As predicted, there were no reports. I'm not sure whether I should be proud of my countrymen for not to panic or regret that they don't seem to care about such things in the middle of the night."

"Just be glad that you have no gang wars here."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Damn, watching you eat makes me hungry after all."

He got up to go to the buffet.

"See?" Emily asked. "He'll be okay."

"And I didn't even help with it," Alison added.

"He's a good ally," Cameron confirmed. "We can rely on him."

"I think we can rely on everyone who was brought back to life by Alison," John commented with a chuckle.

**-0-**

**Monday, January 5th, 2009 – 12:22 p.m.**

**Kiel**

Lintner dropped them all off at the berth of the _Rising Star_ after an uneventful return trip. The farewell was short but affectionate. They hugged each other and Lintner thanked Alison again for saving his life. Then their ways parted again and the four went on board.

"It's about time you returned," Sarah received them before they could even say hello. "While you were gone having fun, we found out we have a stowaway."

"What?" John asked, then looked behind his mother.

Embarrassed, a young woman stepped forward from behind Sarah's back.

"Olga? What are _you_ doing here?"

**-0-0-0-**

**_\- I hope you forgive me for making a double chapter out of this. At least there was no cliffhanger this time ;-)_**

**_\- I was born in Goslar and grew up around there, so I'm familiar with the area. I even stayed at the Hotel Kaiserhof once._**

**_\- H.C. Starck really exists, they really buy half of all the coltan in the world and really have a factory in Goslar since 1920. The rest I made up._**

**_\- Not sure where I'll go with that stowaway thing… it was a spontaneous decision to add it when the chapter was already finished. Probably didn't want to get rid of Olga so quickly._**

**_\- As for Brandon Carver… I have a feeling we'll meet him again ;-)_**

**_\- I know I can always count on my faithful reviewers. But I'd also like to hear the opinion of the silent majority. Just dare, it doesn't have to be a novel, just two or three lines. I know, there are no "Like" buttons here, that sucks ;-) But a short text doesn't take much longer. Dare to leave the shadows - it certainly won't hurt, and you'd give the author the satisfaction and the motivation to continue with the story. And if you now ask yourself "Is he talking to me?", I say "Yes, I am talking to you" :-)_**


	12. Back at Sea

**_CHAPTER 12: "BACK AT SEA"_**

* * *

**Monday, January 5th, 2009 – 12:28 p.m.**

**Kiel**

"Olga? What are _you_ doing here?" John asked perplexed.

"Maybe you should ask your women," Sarah answered in an irritated tone.

They'd all gathered in the large salon on Deck 2. Sarah held Olga's arm as if to prevent her from running away. The rest stood in a semicircle around the two. Only Kyle was missing from the group. He was in his cabin, phoning his family to let them know the approximate time of arrival in Southampton.

"She couldn't have stayed on board without help," Sarah continued. "Cam, Alison, or Emily would have detected her presence."

John turned around and looked at his wives.

"Well?"

"It wasn't our idea," Cameron stated meekly.

"Yeah, we strongly advised against it," Emily added.

Then John looked directly at Alison.

"So it was _you_?" he asked. "You let her stay on board without telling anyone?"

Alison sighed, looking down on the floor.

"Indeed, I have."

"And you two supported her?"

Cameron and Emily nodded their heads while looking rather sheepishly.

"Don't be mad at them," Olga said, and all eyes were back on her again, "she was just doing me a favor. It was my idea. I begged her and asked them not to tell anyone because I was afraid you wouldn't let me stay."

"You're quite right about that part," Sarah confirmed. "We wouldn't have let you stay. This isn't a cruise ship where you can catch a ride for free."

"But I wanted to stay with you all a little longer. We've started to become such good friends, and who knows when we'll see each other again?"

"How about asking?" John suggested.

"Would _you_ have said yes?"

"Probably not."

"See?"

"Don't get us wrong," Sarah explained, "we have nothing against you personally. But so far this journey has been anything but uneventful. We can't constantly look after someone who has no fighting experience and can't contribute anything else than looking good in a bikini. We can't keep playing nanny for you all the time."

"Yeah, that's what Alison said," Olga replied a little irritated and crossed her arms. "She told me that you think I'm a fragile doll who can't cope with the dangers and the challenges of your lives."

Sarah looked at Alison with a reproachful expression.

"How do you know that I said…?"

"You talked to Charley about it on New Year's Day."

"What!? Have you been eavesdropping on us!?"

"You two were talking loud enough and I was just twenty meters away," Alison replied defiantly, "I cannot fade out everything around me and still let all my sensors run at full power. If you want me to have my scanners active all the time, you have to accept that I pick up stuff. If you want to avoid that, talk behind soundproofed walls."

"I'm not a fragile doll," Olga stated vigorously, "I do kickboxing and boxing. I know how to defend myself."

Sarah smirked, obviously not really taking her serious.

"Is that so?"

"Uh-huh."

"Have you ever fired a gun?"

Olga looked down.

"Not a real one, no... But I've played paintball."

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Didn't you want to go back home to your little dog?" Savannah asked to lift the tension a bit. "And didn't you say you had a photo shoot for a magazine?"

"Shoot was cancelled. And my sister is taking care of Gucci. My family knows I'll be away for a while. So does my modeling agency. Everybody was very understanding. Nicolas encouraged me as well to have a time out. He said I should recover from my _'traumatic experience'._"

"Yeah, it's terrible to see how traumatized you are," Derek remarked sarcastically.

Sarah looked at Alison.

"I would have expected better from you," she said reproachfully. "Why did you do it?"

Alison looked back at her defiantly.

"Experience has taught me that sometimes one has to confront you with a fait accompli to get your consent."

"What?"

"Sometimes you lack farsightedness. You're spontaneous and often don't think everything through. If Olga is to work for the colony as a courier, we should at least give her some basic training. We owe her that much for interfering with her life."

"What do you mean I lack farsightedness and don't think everything through?" Sarah asked irritated. "I managed to lead this team very effectively before John took over."

"Do you really want me to list your misjudgments? Because I have them all stored in my memory."

"Stop!" John said categorically. "Stop it right there, both of you."

Everyone looked at him and he took a deep breath before he continued.

"It was wrong to go over all our heads," he said, looking at Alison. "What makes you think we change our mind about Olga now?"

"The fact that there is no international airport close by, that she has no passport with her and that we have to follow our schedule and can't go back to Saint Petersburg."

None of them could argue against this compelling logic.

"You wouldn't just throw me out, would you?" Olga asked carefully before Sarah could utter a sharp reply. "I don't know anyone here, I don't speak the language, I didn't pack anything. I borrowed these clothes from Alison."

Sarah took a deep breath and looked around. But everyone deliberately avoided eye contact with her.

"I still cannot believe you did that," she then said, looking at Alison.

"I did what I felt was right."

John looked at Olga.

"I don't feel that you told us all your reasons for wanting to stay with us," John pointed out, "I simply don't buy the argument that you need training for your job as a courier. Anatoli or Sergei could have provided that for you. There has to be another reason why you wanted to stay with us."

Olga sighed.

"Being with you guys has been so much fun. I really enjoy your company, and I want to get to know you better and… maybe take part in another adventure..."

"And?"

"And... well... I also want to get to experience what Alison, Cameron and Emily told me about. I want to know how it feels."

"How what feels?"

"Being in the nude all the time, not wearing clothes. Must be so much fun and be so... how do you say…? Spirited?"

"Spiritual," Alison corrected.

"Yes. A spiritual experience."

Everyone groaned.

"You've told her about that?" Allie asked reproachfully.

"It just came up," Cameron responded defensively. "We were chatting away and suddenly the topic steered towards nudity, since Olga began her career as a nude model. We didn't think much of it, really. She wasn't upset or anything, just… interested… and intrigued. She was fascinated that being naked is so perfectly normal for us - because she likes being naked, too."

"That doesn't mean you have to share it with every stranger you've known for two days," Sarah replied. "Why don't you tell the whole world about our condition while you're at it, hm? I thought we agreed on keeping that confidential, and only between us."

Before anyone could answer, Kyle joined them in the salon, apparently having ended the phone call with his family.

"What did you want to keep among yourselves?" he asked. "What condition of yours? Is someone ill? Should I be worried?"

For a moment, nobody knew what to say.

"The women are yearning for the sun," John then quickly said. "They were so eager to get to know the snow and the cold, but now they want nothing more than to get back to warmer climes. After all, we're all from southern California."

"Oh yeah, I can relate to that," Kyle acknowledged nodding. "England isn't exactly known for its brilliant weather as well. But home is where the heart is, as they say. Or in my case, my family. They'll be waiting for me in Southampton when we arrive tomorrow."

"Oh, good," Sarah said, glad to change the topic. "We'd like to say hello to them. You can introduce us to your wife... uh, Maureen, was it?"

"Yes. I'm sure that she and the kids will like to meet you all as well. They were surprised – and relieved - to hear you're not our enemies after all. They're very excited to meet you. It's been a while since they've seen a cyborg. Last time was when Tess visited us over Christmas two years ago. Since then, she's almost only been active in Russia."

"What are they doing in Russia anyway?" Derek asked. "They did gather quite a team there."

"They're making sure the Russians don't get the wrong ideas…"

"Wrong ideas?"

"Yeah, for example copying the Americans in creating a dangerous A.I. Russia is a huge country, so they need to spread out a lot. Hence the size of their team."

"Ah, okay," John said, "I've also been asking myself what they're all doing there. I guess it makes sense."

"We're also in the process of establishing a Chinese division. Unfortunately, we have only a few Asian looking members in the Colony and almost none of them speak Chinese. That means we'll have to recruit outsiders locally. That'll take a while, it's hard to find people we can trust."

John nodded.

"A risky strategy, though."

"Risky but necessary. It's important that we become active in Asia. Next to the USA, Russia and the EU, this is the fourth region in the world where dangerous autonomous weapon systems can be developed."

"It's good to know we're not the only ones who care about that," Sarah stated. "We'll be busy enough in the United States."

"It's still where all the Terminators ended up," Kyle agreed. "Definitely the most important region in the world in that respect. The others are about a decade behind. We still have time to get ourselves organized, but we have to be vigilant as well. Not everyone will support us. Some will even fight us."

John smiled.

"I know from a reliable source that you'll probably be successful with whatever you do."

"Ah yes," Kyle replied, "the ominous time loop your talked about. I suppose that mysterious woman you mentioned, Yani, would have to know about our Colony, right?"

"I'd say that's a given," Savannah confirmed. "When Alistair called us on the phone to wish us a happy new year, he mentioned that she'd just returned from a mission in Russia where she had to '_unscrew a fuse'_ and then '_screw it back in again'_. He probably thought she was pulling his leg… or speaking in riddles."

"Wait, what?" Kyle asked surprised. "Are you saying she was the one who switched off the lights?"

"Yup."

"Jeez, I wonder what else she will surprise us with."

"Only _she_ knows."

"Can't you, like, ask her? I'm sure you have ways to…"

"Hardly," Emily replied. "She knows the future, she basically had to study for years to memorize everything that happened between now and the year 2332. Whatever we plan to do, she'll know it in advance and can avoid us. Besides, there's also somebody else who will probably prevent that."

"Future Alison."

"Exactly. She's also out there. So, there's no use in trying to meddle with the timeline."

"But didn't you say that she'd traveled back earlier than anticipated and that because of that, things might change? Alison, for instance, already learned how to become invisible - much earlier than anticipated. An ability she has already put to good use, hasn't she? Isn't that a change in the timeline?"

"Apparently only an insignificant one," Alison replied.

"Even without Alison's ability to become invisible, we probably would have managed to find out about Olga's whereabouts and overwhelm your gang in the abandoned factory," Cameron said.

"Oh really? How?"

"I don't know. I admit it probably wouldn't have been quite so easy."

"We could have asked Alistair for instance," Emily pointed out. "He has a device which emits signals that can deactivate Terminators. The signal can be transmitted via radio waves. We three are immune to it."

"Right, I had totally forgotten about that," John said, vividly remembering his first encounter with Guy Rossi on Point Dume where he only survived thanks to Alistair Norbury's signal emitter.

"And I'm sure we'd have been able to enter the factory grounds of H.C. Starck without my ability to become invisible," Alison added. "It would have required a more complicated solution, but it wouldn't have been much more difficult."

"Also, Cam and Emily haven't really _needed_ their body upgrades yet," Savannah added.

"Different strategies with the same outcome won't change the timeline," John summarized. "In Future Alison's original timeline things were probably handled a little differently, but the result is the same. It's safe to say we'd ended up in the same place at the same time we are in now."

"Let's not talk about time travel theory again," Kyle stated, rubbing his head. "My brain's still smoking from last time."

"Don't worry," John said smiling, "we decided long ago that discussing_ 'what ifs'_ is not worth investing any lifetime in it."

"So... what about Olga?" Kyle asked. "Have you decided if she's going to stay aboard or what?"

Sarah looked into the faces around her. Everyone just shrugged. She couldn't expect a decision there. Then she looked at John. He took a deep breath.

"All right," he said in a resigned tone. "She can stay."

Olga cheered loudly and fell around John's neck.

"Thank you," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek, "thank you so much, John."

"Under one condition!" he pointed out.

Olga frowned.

"What condition?"

"You and Alison behave. No pranks, no pretending to be the other one! Promise me, now."

Olga sighed.

"All right, I promise."

He looked at Alison.

"Okay, okay, John… I promise, too."

"Is there something we should know about that?" Sarah asked with a frown.

John looked at his wives and Olga.

"Well, is there?"

The four shook their heads in reply.

"No," John said, "I don't think there's something you need to know."

**-0-**

**_Monday, January 5th, 2009 – 09:55 p.m._**

**_Day 47 of our journey_**

_We left Kiel in the early afternoon and went through the Kiel Canal, which connects the North Sea and the Baltic see, saving us 250 nautical miles that we would otherwise have needed for the circumnavigation of Denmark. There's a strict speed limit in the canal, so now we've just entered the German Bight on our way towards the English Channel. The shipping traffic here is so dense that it almost reminds me of Los Angeles at rush hour. We can therefore only travel with a maximum of 18 knots._

_John and the girls filled us in about what had happened in Goslar. It's hard to believe that Kaliba is still very active and that they're now trying to produce and sell future technology the Grays have given to them before we killed their leaders. It also explains why the production hall of Desert Canyon Heat and Air was so small – it was only erected for research, developing and testing the drone prototype. _

_While Catherine destroyed it and we thought we'd given Kaliba the final blow by bringing down the Simdyne Tower, exposing their scheme of nuking L.A., the mass production of the drones was already underway at H.C. Starck. Unbelievable. Everyone is wondering how many more times we'll be surprised by our enemies in the future. I don't have a particularly good feeling about it. Anyway, we'll arrive in Southampton in the morning, where Kyle will leave us. I'm quite eager to get to know his family. I've been wondering, though… does his wife look like me, or is she a completely different type of woman? I guess I'll find out tomorrow. _

_Alexander Lintner has promised to keep us up to date and inform us, if something new comes up. But as I understand it, it'll be at least a week until something will happen in order to make sure that all the drones are safely on their way to their customers. I wish I could be a fly on the wall when the stunned despots realize that the machines blow up in their faces as soon as they unwrap them and try to turn them on._

_No news from home. Bridger and Clark seem to have fallen off the face of the earth. Sonya, Zoe and Tess believe that they now have kidnapped enough Terminators for whatever Bridger is planning, and they have retreated to their hiding place. Unless some stupid coincidence or a miracle happens, they probably won't be found there. The thought that the two of them are sitting somewhere, hatching a plot that sooner or later will certainly give us a big headache, is almost unbearable. And now we also have Kaliba and the Grays breathing down our necks once more. John has started talking about the Connor curse again..._

_Alison and Olga… where to start? I don't know what has happened between them and John – and I probably don't wanna know – but they're surprisingly well-behaving for now. However, they really are like twins, secretly enjoying the fact that nobody can tell them apart – at least as long as they keep their mouths shut. Olga speaks quite good English but her Russian accent gives her away within a second. Alison has begun to sometimes imitate that accent and John is not amused. Neither am I, to be honest. Olga's a really nice girl, friendly to everyone and tries to be helpful. But it can't make up for sneaking her way aboard behind our backs - with Alison's help and Cameron's and Emily's tolerance. _

_John made it clear that such behavior is unacceptable and won't be tolerated in the future. Sometimes I really get the impression that we're not dealing with three cyborgs, but with three immature teenage girls. Since they received their upgrades, it's just gotten worse. I hope the whole thing doesn't go to their heads._

**-0-**

John had made it clear to his wives that their behavior was not okay - and refused any form of sexual activity after they'd retreated to their suite. As they kept begging him and trying to change his mind, he finally got dressed and left them, stating categorically that he wanted to be alone. He went outside on the aft deck, where he sat down on a bench next to the railing. It was a clear night and he could see the stars above. He could also see the position lights of all the ships around them. This wasn't the ocean, it was a freakin' ship highway.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned around.

"Hi," Kyle Reese said.

"Hi," John replied.

"Trouble sleeping?"

"Not really. Just showing my wives that I'm disappointed in them. And the best way to make them understand and let them suffer a bit, is refusing to have sex with them."

"I see. I hope I'm not intruding or something. If you want to be left alone…"

"Nah, just enjoying the salty breeze of sea air."

For a moment, none of them knew what to say next.

"We hadn't time to talk yet," Kyle then begun and leaned with his back against the railing, facing John.

"What do you wanna talk about?"

"Well…" Kyle scratched his head, "there's this… strange relationship between us."

"Oh… You mean that you're my biological father without ever having slept with my mom?"

"Yah… I mean… it's strange, isn't it? Weird even. One could compare it to the situation where a sperm donor meets the child conceived with his sperm."

"That's… not really a nice way to put it."

"Oh… I'm sorry, it was…"

"Inappropriate."

"Massively inappropriate, yes."

"And awkward."

"That, too. I should really switch on my brain before I start talking."

"Heh… yeah, you should."

Suddenly, they just stared at each other for a moment and then John began snorting. Kyle joined in and they were laughing out loudly, the ice suddenly broken.

"But you're right in a way," John finally said after they calmed down again. "I mean… it's not exactly a very sensitive or comfortable notion… but you're right. It must be awkward to discover that you have a son you never knew about."

"Yeah… but the weirdest thing is… I think there is a chemistry between us. I felt it from the start when we met at the factory in Saint Petersburg. And here we are. In this place. And there is some… I dunno, connection…? Or am I imagining things?"

"No, you're not, I have the same feeling. It's weird."

"Although to be honest, I'm not the father figure you missed your whole life. And probably never will be."

"Yeah, I didn't know what to expect really. All my life I grew up knowing that my father was a soldier, a hero who died to save my mom's life. And suddenly… you're here. And you're neither a soldier, nor…"

"… a hero."

"Well… you already said it: you're not the Kyle Reese who was my father, who he would have been... if he'd survived."

"I guess I'm the lucky one then... because if I'd been him, I'd probably be dead now."

"Yeah, more than likely."

"I survived the war against Skynet because I'd met this Irish woman. I realized that there's not much to die for but a lot to live for. So, unlike my brother, I didn't constantly volunteer for the most dangerous operations. In my timeline, _he_ was the hero who died, not me."

"I've often wondered how my life would have looked like if he'd survived the attack of the very first T-800."

"And?"

John shrugged.

"Knowing my mom, the two would have probably constantly fought… she's not an easy woman to live with."

"Heh, yeah, I noticed that."

"She and Charley get only along so well because Charley's a puppy dog at heart, really."

"Opposites attract, as they say."

"I guess so. But I'm sure that if my father would have survived, the two would have stayed together and teamed up to prevent Judgement Day from happening."

"Becoming a pair of guerilla fighters of sorts - a couple and their son against the rest of the world."

"Something like that. At least that's how I imagined it as a kid. You don't happen to be a guerilla fighter, do you?"

Kyle chuckled.

"No, not exactly. The only underground work I do, is with the plow on my tractor."

John laughed.

"Did your mom ever tell you what he was like, the other Kyle?"

"Oh, endlessly. But it was kinda repetitive. They were only together for one day and one night."

"Oh wow, that wasn't long."

"She still loved him fifteen years after his death. Until she met Charley, I thought she'd never get over him."

"I'm glad she did by now, otherwise this encounter would have been a lot more awkward, I guess."

"According to her, my dad was full of energy, always setting her mind straight, creating the woman she now is. He was a relentless fighter, never giving up, and she did her best to live up to his standards."

"She's a fine woman. I have to admit, she would have been my type."

"Yeah, Derek mentioned that to me more than a year ago..."

Kyle looked at him in surprise.

"Did he now?"

"Yes, he told me on my 16th birthday that in his timeline, Kyle always carried a picture of John Connor's mom in his pocket. Apparently, my future self had given it to him, knowing that he'd have to travel back one day to save her life."

"... sacrificing his own in the process."

"Yeah... sucks, right?"

"I begin to understand why you don't like your future self."

"Derek thought it was weird having the picture of the mother of their military commander with him."

"Yeah, I can imagine. But I can also understand the other version of me. Your mother is very attractive."

"By the way," John said to change the topic before it could get awkward, "you and Derek seem to get along pretty well."

Kyle nodded.

"We both lost our brother in the war. We lost one half of ourselves, and we both believed we'd never see each other again. Now… despite the difference in age and the fact that we're from different realities, we somehow feel whole again for the first time. Dunno if you can understand that…"

"Oh yes, I can, believe me. I know what it feels like not to be whole… each time I'm separated from Alison, Cam or Emily. We are one, you know…"

"Yes, Sarah told me about your unique relationship. Three cyborgs that are actually one. The exact same chip, only different bodies. It must be challenging at time."

"Not at all. Maybe it would be if they were human girls. But they're not. There is no jealousy, no animosities, they're actively trying to keep trouble away from me. They quickly recognized the situation and adjusted accordingly."

"Yes, I noticed that the four of you seem to be very much in harmony."

"Uh-huh… I suppose it has to do with the fact that the original Cameron was actually _built_ to get close to John Connor."

"Ah yes, that makes sense."

"But then she not only got close to him but fell in love with him."

"Probably it was her destiny."

"Yes, probably. John Connor became the fulcrum of her life, the meaning of her existence. But in _their_ future, during the war with the machines, a too personal relationship was out of the question. The two being together so much was already making his subordinates suspicious."

"Yeah, I witnessed the early stages of human-cyborg cooperation. There were a lot of animosities on both sides at first."

"Future John sent her back in time, hoping that she could be there for his younger self as a protector… and a lover."

"Looks like the plan worked."

"So... in other words, she was made to stay with me from the beginning, no matter what happens. In a way, building and maintaining our love relationship was Cam's one and only true mission, and still is, it never ends."

Kyle nodded.

"Dedication. Nobody is better at it than a cyborg."

"Indeed. Loving and protecting me is their number one priority, and they fulfill this mission with a thoroughness only a machine can muster."

"Everything machines do, is thorough and focused on the mission. If their mission is to love you, they love you absolutely and without a doubt, in a way no human could."

"I'm glad you understand me."

"Of course, I do. I've seen machine love happening, and it's a wonderful thing. Take Tess and Sergei for instance. They're absolutely devoted to each other."

"Yeah, I noticed. She cried and was furious when she thought he died."

"One could think that she has the upper hand in their relationship, that she is this hardened, relentless leader. But in fact she is a big softie. She only becomes hard and merciless when her friends or family are being threatened."

John nodded.

"Yes, we got a taste of that. Her priority is caring for her loved ones and for the Colony. That saved my life, I guess. If she was like other Terminators, she'd probably have killed me months ago."

"You know... in a way, I envy you and your relationship with Cam, Alison and Emily."

"Oh? I thought you were happy with your family, with your wife."

"Oh, I am. Don't get me wrong..."

"But...?"

"But... my wife is quite temperamental. Maureen is Irish and we argue a lot."

"I see... so there is a similarity to my mother."

Both chuckled.

"Yeah, indeed. But there's always more of what holds us together than what separates us. We have been married for almost twenty years now. I think we will spend the rest of our lives together."

"You just feel when you've found the right one."

"Exactly. Nothing against your mother, but unlike your father, I'm not a brave warrior, not a hero who gave his life to save the mother of the future leader of humanity. My military career was over twenty years ago. I'm a farmer now, I breed cattle and pigs and I grow rapeseed."

"I know... and I have trouble getting my head around that."

Again, they both chuckled. Then Kyle looked him directly in the eyes for a moment before he spoke.

"Nevertheless… to cut a long story short, John... if you ever need someone… a father figure of sorts… someone who listens…"

John smiled.

"I'll keep that in mind. But to be brutally honest, I probably won't need that. I have Derek and Charley, who've been good substitute fathers. They know me already, they know our lives, I don't have to explain things to them, so… no offense, but..."

"None taken. But sometimes it's nice to have someone outside your own environment to confide in."

"That's true. As I said, I'll keep it in mind."

"But please remember the time difference before you call, okay?"

John laughed.

"Yeah, okay, I will," he assured, then he paused for a moment before he continued, looking serious again. "What about your family? Are you going to tell them?"

"You mean about you and Sarah?"

"Uh-huh."

Kyle ran his fingers through his hair and took in a deep breath.

"I have a feeling it's better not to tell her right away. However, I won't be able to hide it from her forever. I'm a lousy pretender and she sees right through me. She'll notice that there is _something_ and she'll be going on and on about it until I finally put it on the table. I suppose I have to wait for the right moment."

John nodded.

"Good luck with that."

"Oh well… it's not like I cheated on her and suddenly present an illegitimate child…"

"She might still feel hurt, though, even though she might not know herself why. You need to be sensitive."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Kyle suddenly laughed again.

"What?" John asked smiling.

"Oh, it's nothing… it's just that I realized I'm talking about women with the grown-up son I never knew I had. Isn't it weird?"

John grinned.

"Not at all. I think... that in the end, we can run away from each other... but never from our genes, no matter how many timelines are between us."

"You're much wiser than your age would suggest. I can see the leader in you that you might become."

"Oh please... not you, too."

"Sorry, I guess you get to hear that a lot."

"Yes, let's talk about something else. Your children, how old are they?"

"Angela is fourteen, Harry ten and Matthew is seven."

John nodded.

"So, they were born after you traveled back in time?"

"Yes. Maureen and I wanted to wait for the troubled times to end before having kids. She wanted two, I wanted one... now we have three."

Both laughed again.

"But that's good," John said, "they will always have each other. I'm happy for them. I was an only child who grew up in the Mexican jungle of Oaxaca, alone with my mother. I always wished for a brother or a sister. I never got to make any real friends before we moved on. And when we returned to the USA, she was arrested for terrorism, and I lived with foster parents for a while."

"Why am I suddenly feeling bad, hearing that?"

"No need to, it's not your fault. There's nothing you've done or could have done. You didn't even know we exist. I was long before you traveled back in time."

"Still cannot change the fact, though. I have this strange feeling that I should have been there for you, even if my rational mind tells me it's completely illogical."

"Yeah, our minds won't help much in such situations. Like it or not, we're related."

"Genetics, huh?"

"They can be a bitch."

Once more, both laughed.

"I have to say, John, this has been a good talk."

"Yes, it has."

He rose up from the bench and stretched his limbs.

"Ready to face your wives again?" Kyle asked.

"I think I've kept them in suspense long enough now. Will be a long night, I suppose... they'll want to make amends."

"Don't overexert yourself."

"Nah, don't worry, I'm used to it. It helps when you have a woman who can turn you into the most enduring lover of all time."

"Can she spare a dose of those nanobots for me? I'd like to impress Maureen."

John laughed out loudly.

"Maybe we should fill it in bottles and sell it as an aphrodisiac."

"Now, that's a great business idea!"

They both laughed and went back inside.

**-0-**

**Tuesday, January 6th, 2009 – 09:00 a.m.**

**Somewhere in the Middle East**

Brandon Carver sat in the waiting area of an office in one of the new, modern skyscrapers that characterized this city on the coast of the Persian Gulf, surrounded by the dry and sandy Arabian desert. The young, pretty secretary looked at him from time to time and smiled as he waited. If the situation had been different, he would have tried to make a pass on her. But he had other things on his mind, more important things.

He reviewed the events of the last two days in his mind's eye: the intruders in the factory, who most certainly were the three cyborg girls from Los Angeles; the fact that one of them was apparently a brand new model he didn't know, resistant to armor-piercing ammo and to who knows what else. She'd spotted him immediately from a few hundred yards away and made eye contact with him. Her scanners had to be fantastic to make him out in such a short amount of time from so far away. Normally, the scanning range of Terminators was less than a hundred yards.

The image he'd seen through his rifle scope, was disturbing: there she was, completely naked, a paragon of beauty, but with half of her face missing, blown away by the heavy round that exploded on contact with her head. A black skull, not a shiny metal one. She had to be made of some new, tougher material. He'd seen her flesh quickly regrowing again as her red-glowing eyes stared with him. Her rate of regeneration was astonishing, it looked freaky and made the hairs on his skin stand up, despite the cold.

Carver had never been an easy man to scare, but she unsettled him massively. He knew all of the Terminator models, their performance data and limitations, their strengths and weaknesses, but _she_ had been something he didn't know yet, not even from blueprints. She was an unknown factor, and that made her extremely dangerous in his book. He never wanted to be face to face with her again his life - not even from such a distance. At least not until he knew exactly what she is and what her weaknesses are. Because she must have some. After all, she was just a machine. And machines could be destroyed. He always refused to even think here could be a Terminator model that couldn't be vanquished and destroyed with the right ammunition. He just had to find out where her weak spot was. And that's why he hadn't run like a headless chicken, even though it might have looked that way.

Brandon Carver wasn't the type of man who just lost his nerve and ran. He'd demonstratively driven past the factory gate with his engine revving high, knowing that he'd attract their attention that way. Then he'd returned through some back roads, sneaking through shortcuts even a small park. He wasn't an amateur, he'd scouted the whole area in the first days after starting to work there. He'd stopped in the parking lot of the supermarket opposite the factory premises and waited. He assumed that the rented VW Multivan he'd noticed before, belonged to them. There was no other vehicle in sight and their chosen parking spot was perfect for entering and leaving the factory quickly.

The supermarket where he'd been waiting in hiding after his return, was only a hundred meters away. He'd parked his Porsche behind the building. Carver himself had broken into the store through the back door, deactivated the alarm system, and had been watching from behind the shelves inside the market through a night vision binocular. No matter how well her cyborg scanners worked, she wouldn't spot him in there. After waiting and watching for a couple of minutes, five people had appeared next to the VW Multivan in a kind of camouflage suit he'd never seen before. It had seemed to swallow the light like a black hole, was actually darker than the surrounding night. He'd switched to infrared mode and there was almost nothing, just some vague silhouettes. A perfect thermal shielding. No wonder the alarm system at the factory had failed.

The five had taken off their hoods and Carver had switched back to night vision. Suddenly, he could tell from their faces and hairstyles that they were three females and two males. He hadn't recognized the man taking the driver's seat. But he'd immediately identified the other one and had to control himself from not laughing out loud involuntarily. Sure, he was much younger, only a teenager, or maybe twenty, and he had no scar across his face, but it was John Connor, alive and kicking. He wasn't dead after all. And if he was alive, then his mother would be too. So, _they _were behind those three mysterious cyborg girls from Los Angeles, who'd been dominating the worldwide headlines for months. He should have known it. It looked as if Connor had put together a really powerful team. No wonder that the leading Grays had all disappeared without a trace. Terminated, no doubt about it.

He'd also recognized one of the three females - Cameron, John Connor's pet cyborg, shaped after the human rebel Alison Young who'd been caught by the renegade cyborgs and probably killed - their intelligence hadn't been sure about that. The others were unknown to him, including the tall, slender one he'd seen naked through his scope. If he hadn't known what she was, he would have found her very attractive. In a bar, he definitely would have made a pass on her. But her beauty only hid the monster inside, there was no doubt about it. Her skull was fully healed again, including the eye. Fascinating.

Where did she come from? How did she get to team up with Connor? Who was the third one, the busty one? She looked similar to a TOK-700 prototype he'd seen. Was she the same model as Cameron? How much of a threat were those three exactly? And how the hell had they come to know about their operation here in Goslar? Who was the other man, the unknown? Was he an ally, a local helper perhaps? He had to find out.

Carver wasn't looking for revenge. He was smart enough to know it'd probably backfire at him with three Terminators at their disposal. But in order to better protect their future operations, there was no choice but to try and weaken them, equal the playing field. And the best way to weaken them, was to take away their advantage. But in order to do that, he had to gather a lot more intelligence first. So he had followed them - without turning on the lights on his Porsche. The unknown man drove the van, John Connor sat next to him. Good, because that meant the three cyborgs couldn't look into the rear-view mirrors. However, he knew the unknown female Terminator could spot him over several hundred yards, so he'd kept his distance. There was no traffic at the time, there was no particular risk of driving without lights, and the narrow, winding streets of Goslar's old town played into his hands. At first, they'd driven to an inconspicuous hotel in the town center. They'd stayed there for a few hours. Carver had swallowed stimulants to stay awake. Finally, about four and a half hours later, all five had left the hotel, boarded the VW Multivan again, and driven out of the city in the direction of the Autobahn. Carver had followed them all the way to Kiel, always anxious to leave at least half a dozen cars between them.

In Kiel, he'd followed them to the marina, where a huge luxury yacht was moored, the _Rising Star_. If he remembered correctly, she was Isaak Sirko's boat. And Sirko had recently married Catherine Weaver. Adam Jacobsen had mentioned that Catherine Weaver had planned to buy Simdyne. She had therefore been classified as an enemy, a subject for termination. Jacobson had sent out a Triple-Eight to kill her in her home and in her office. Yet she managed to stay alive, the Triple-Eight never returned, and Jacobsen disappeared. Kaliba then decided to kill her by letting their drone prototype crash into her office. Still, she survived unharmed. Was it with Connor's help?

As the group was boarding the ship, he'd seen _her_ through his binoculars - Sarah Connor. He'd suspected she was alive as well – now he knew for sure. And he also saw a girl who looked almost identical to Cameron. That had to be Alison Young. So, she was still alive... and had obviously gotten a boob job. He'd scoffed. Women... And then there were also Derek Reese and Jesse Flores, two more well-known rebel fighters. Skynet had kept detailed lists of its enemies and also demanded that its human allies knew them. Did Connor's team consist of rebels from the future? Had he been collecting them and given them a new purpose? It was the only explanation.

Carver had put down his binoculars and started thinking. Weaver and Connor, obviously working together. Did _they_ bring down Simdyne and the Shadow Council? Were _they_ responsible for driving Kaliba out of America? He'd felt the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, gradually forming a coherent picture. John and Sarah Connor… Zeira Corp… Catherine Weaver... with the support of Isaak Sirko... that equaled lots of money and resources. And he knew they were also in league with the FBI, the DHS and the newly formed C.S.I.S., with Sonya Hawkins at the helm. Their attack on that strange sect in Florida was left no doubt about it. Obviously, something had happened that had transformed John and Sarah Connor from lone warriors to leaders of a well-connected, internationally operating team. They no longer fought a guerilla fight against the rest of the world, where they were posing no threat at all to anyone. Now they even had the support of the President of the United States. This was bad, very bad.

The unknown man had then driven away in the van. Carver had followed him to the rental car company. When the man and the clerk had walked outside to inspect the returned vehicle, he'd sneaked into the office and looked at the computer. The customer's name was Alexander Lintner, and he was with the BKA. He'd been right, it was a local law enforcer, probably a colleague of the spy they'd killed. The Connor Team seemed to be well connected in Germany way well. Then Carver had left the premises of the car rental without being seen, went to his secret hiding place, got his second passport with the alternate identity of Martin Friedman, some cash, credit cards, a wig, large sunglasses, and finally driven to Hamburg airport to take the next flight towards the Middle East.

He'd learned one thing from all of this - caution was called for. Great caution. For the first time, they faced an enemy that was probably stronger than them. And Kaliba didn't even know it. So here he was, he had to warn them. He...

"He will see you now, Mr. Carver," the secretary chirped, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He stood up, straightened his suit, and entered through the door the woman had opened for him, closing it again behind him after he entered.

"Major Carver," a man in a white thawb and a white kufiya on his head said smiling and rose from his chair behind the desk.

They shook hands.

"What an unexpected pleasure. Shouldn't you be in Germany to monitor the shipment of the products? Please, take a seat."

Carver scoffed and sat down opposite of the Arabian-clad man.

"There'll be no shipment," he said.

The man frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"The plant was discovered, infiltrated and taken over by our opponents. The entire production has probably already been destroyed. I was forced to eliminate the employees earlier than planned. I could barely get away in time."

"What are you talking about, Carver? The shipment is on its way, everything's going as planned."

"What? No… no, that's not possible."

The Arabian man typed something into his computer, then turned the monitor around, so that Carver could watch.

"See? The tracking signals of all drones are still active. The first batch has already reached Rotterdam and is being loaded onto the Emma Mærsk as we speak."

"What? That's impossible! That can't be right. My men… they were killed, I saw it."

"There was an accident, yes. I talked to Lieutenant Finnegan last night. He informed me there was a weapons malfunction, five men were killed. Very unfortunate. But apart from that, he didn't report anything unusual. Except for…"

"For what?"

"He said that you've been making a very stressed impression on him lately. The word paranoia fell, he said you had an employee killed because you thought he was a spy."

"He **_was_** a spy! He was working for the German BKA!"

"Finnegan said that you weren't sure, and that you went ahead with the killing without having solid proof. Are you feeling well, Major Carver? You look overtired to me, maybe you need some rest. A vacation perhaps? Just a couple of days. The past months must have been extremely stressful."

Carver was speechless for a second. Then he jumped up, put his fists onto the desk and leaning forward.

"THERE WAS A GUNFIGHT!" he shouted. "The enemy attacked us with our own T-1 prototypes! We were forced to destroy them, I saw it with my own eyes! You didn't talk to Finnegan! _They_ can imitate our voices! Finnegan is dead and you talked to one of **_them_**! They never leave survivors!"

The outbreak obviously didn't go down well with the Arabian man, as his face froze and lost all its friendliness.

"Calm down, Major Carver. There's no need for aggression. You're in my country, my office. Now, don't be a fool. Sit down again, or would you rather be escorted out by security?"

Pulling himself together, Carver sat down again.

"Now…" the man continued. "I know what you told us about… **_them_**. I know they can imitate voices. But Finnegan knew the agreed code phrases. I assure you, I spoke to Finnegan. He says that everything is fine at the factory, that the shipping of the containers was going according to plan, but that you unexpectedly left town without giving a reason. He mentioned that you were in a rather bad state, emotionally."

Carver opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. He was speechless and shook his head. Then he had to laugh because he couldn't believe what he'd heard.

"What's so funny, Major?"

"They tricked you," he said between chuckles. " I don't know how but they tricked you. If there's a fool in here, then it's you."

"Major Carver," the Arab said in an icy tone, "I'm not gonna let you talk to me like that anymore! Do not forget who you have in front of you!"

Carver didn't say anything anymore. He knew he shouldn't irritate the man too much. He was a powerful, dangerous man.

"My apologies. And yes, I admit it has been stressful lately. I hardly got any sleep."

"Apology accepted. Maybe you just _believe_ you saw something?"

Suddenly, the Arab was all calm and friendly again. Carver shook his head.

"No! I definitely saw it! I saw that invisible, naked woman, she looked at me and…"

"Did you say invisible, naked woman? Did I hear that right?"

"She… she was one of **_them_**. She must have had some kind of cloaking device. I shot at where I assumed her head must be. Then the cloak failed, and she became visible, revealing that she was naked. The bullet hit her face but… even with the most potent ammo we have, I couldn't really harm her. She had a black endoskeleton, I saw it. I saw the red glow of her eye, she definitely was a Terminator! But her flesh healed within seconds! I never saw anything like it before, she must be an unknown model. And the worst thing is that she's under John Connor's command!"

The man frowned.

"John Connor? But he's dead, he died in 1999. Isn't that what you and your associates assured us?"

"Obviously, we've been wrong. I followed them back to Kiel and saw them boarding a yacht, the _Rising Star_. That's Isaak Sirko's ship. Sirko is Catherine Weaver's husband, they recently got married. And there was Sarah Connor waiting for John and his team to come back. They're in league with Weaver and Zeira Corp. You need to find that yacht and sink it. You have a navy at your disposal, haven't you? They're in Southampton today, and their next stop will be Barcelona. We have four days until they arrive there."

The Arab leaned back in his chair and put his fingertips together.

"Have you talked about this with anyone else?"

"What? No. Of course not. When even _you_ consider me delusional, what would others think?"

"Good. Let's keep it that way. Maybe you should indeed rest for a couple of days. You're a valuable asset to our operations, you have to take care of your health."

"I'm not sick or delusional!" Carver insisted. "And I don't need rest! If the merchandise is being shipped despite what I saw, then they must have manipulated it somehow! Maybe they planted a virus. They had access to the computer system that programs the drones! You should have them thoroughly checked before you deliver them to the customers."

"I might consider this."

Carver shrugged.

"It's your money and your reputation. I'm just here to warn you, in the best interest of our partnership. So... will you send out ships to sink the _Rising Star_?"

"I will have to discuss this with the others first, of course. But I seriously doubt they will agree to sinking a civilian ship with American citizens on board. The backlash would be… unacceptable."

Carver nodded. Obviously, the man didn't take his warning seriously enough. Should he try to contact Finnegan? Nah, if they'd fooled Kaliba, it could only mean that Finnegan had been forced to act against them, or he was killed after they'd tortured the codes out of him. It looked as if Carver was on his own. And if he couldn't get Kaliba's help, he'd have to seek it elsewhere. He knew who to call. Time to change strategy.

"As you wish. In that case, I hope you understand that I will have to do what's necessary on my own account, without your help."

"If you allow me to make a suggestion, Major, don't mention an invisible, naked woman to anyone."

Brandon Carver looked at the man. He now knew that the man believed he was crazy and only wanted to get rid of him. How he despised his fake Arabian friendliness. Very well then, if the stupid fool preferred to walk right into the trap and lose the money, the merchandise, and Kaliba's reputation with it, so be it. He rose from his chair to leave, but before he walked through the door, he turned around once more.

"You know… I didn't have to inform or warn you. I just felt it was fair to do so. Our partnership has worked well so far, despite your failure in Los Angeles. We both took profit from it all until now. I will of course have to inform _Shiva_ of this conversation, and maybe he will reconsider the arrangement."

"Do what you think is right. But don't waste my time with those delusions of yours. Maybe that future war has made you paranoid indeed."

"You don't know what you're talking about, you haven't been there. Maybe I'm paranoid. But being alert and paranoid kept me alive. You don't know our enemies' trickery. John Connor is cunning and clever. You have no idea who or what you're dealing with!"

"Is there anything else?"

Carver shook his head.

"Then if you'll excuse me, I have a board meeting in five minutes."

Carver left the office. The moment the door was closed, the Arab produced a smartphone. He dialed a number and waited for a moment.

"Miss Weaver? … This is Abdul Al Hani speaking … I need to tell you something you might be interested in."

**-0-**

**Tuesday, January 6th, 2009 – 07:46 a.m.**

**The English Channel**

When Sarah and Charley entered the salon on Deck 2 for breakfast, they were welcomed by loud arguing.

"That's only _your_ opinion, John!" Emily said.

"No, that's the opinion of everyone aboard."

There were agreeing utterances from all the humans present.

"You admitted yourself that we made great progress!" Cameron's voice could be heard.

"In understanding, yes," John agreed, "but not in telling."

"What's going on here?" Sarah demanded. "What's the meaning of this bickering and shouting in the morning before I had my coffee?"

"Cameron tried to be funny," Anne replied before anyone else could. "And we're trying to tell her… tell _them_… that she's not."

"I'm afraid I can't follow you."

"Cameron tried to tell a joke, mom," John said. "and nobody laughed."

"Because they suck at telling jokes," Anne added.

"They're trying," John defended his wives. "But I admit they're not there yet."

"But we found that joke on the internet!" Alison protested.

"Only because it was on the internet, doesn't mean it's funny," Anne pointed out. "Especially not when _you_ tell it."

Sarah noticed that except for Anne and John, none of the humans were talking. Obviously they were desperately trying to be busy with something else to avoid being pulled into the conversation. Most of them were concentrating very hard on their breakfast, as if they were playing chess with scrambled eggs, bacon and pancakes.

"And what joke was it?" Sarah asked.

"Where do the _CAPS LOCK _key and the _ENTER_ key meet to have their first date?" Cameron asked.

Sarah sighed.

"I dunno, where do they have their first date?"

"In the _SPACE BAR_!"

There was a moment of absolute silence while everyone waited for Sarah's reaction.

"Nope," she finally said dryly and took place at the table, unfolding her napkin. "Not funny."

"But I saw a comedian on YouTube telling that joke," Cameron argued, "and the audience laughed at it."

"What about this one?" Emily asked. "My friend keeps saying _'Cheer up, man, it could be worse. You could be stuck underground in a hole full of water'._ I know he means well…"

Silence.

"Don't you get it?" Cameron asked. "'_He means well...'_ Like, a well… it's a pun."

Everyone groaned.

"A joke's not a joke if you have to explain it," Savannah pointed out. "The audience has to understand it immediately."

"I've been trying to tell you," John added, "there's more to being funny than just telling a joke. It's _how_ you tell the joke… what you saw, was a warmed up audience in the right mood. Professional comedians know how to do that. And a joke has to fit your personality. There are people who can read a telephone book and make you laugh with that alone because they're hilarious and have talent. And then there's you… rational, logical, thorough… no comedic talent. If you want to be funny, you have to make it more fitting to your personality. Stop copying others. You're rational and logical. Try making fun of that."

"You mean telling rational, logical jokes?" Alison asked.

"Sure, why not?"

"We can learn that," Cameron stated. "We learned to understand punchlines, puns and double meanings, we learned to recognize humor, quips and funny remarks. So, we can also learn to be funny ourselves."

"We will prove it to you," Emily said, "We'll arrange a standup comedy show for you."

"Oh dear," Anne muttered.

"Tonight," Cameron added.

"Oh, thank God I'm leaving after lunch," Kyle remarked with relief in his voice.

Everyone was looking at him.

"What?" he asked. "I've been with cyborgs for over twenty-five years, I know what happens when they try to be funny. There's only one way for them to be funny, and that's unintentionally."

"Thank you," Anne replied. "I rest my case."

"At least give us a chance," Alison begged. "And if we cannot make you laugh in, say… fifteen minutes, we admit our defeat."

John looked around in the faces of his shrugging family and team members. Then he sighed.

"All right then. Tonight. Fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, John," the three cyborg girls replied happily in unison and hugged him.

"But now I want to eat breakfast," he said and reached for his coffee. "I didn't get much sleep."

"And don't we know it," Derek muttered, only to receive a kick from Jesse under the table. "Ouch!"

"I heard them as well," Olga added. "They were very loud."

"It's all they've been doing lately," Savannah commented, receiving an angry look from John.

"I hoped it would be more like in Saint Petersburg," Olga said, "you know… more… action."

"Well," Sarah said with a smirk, "if you wanted to stay on board for the action, girlie, I'm afraid there won't be much more action than that."

"After all, this is a pleasure cruise," Emily stated.

"A honeymoon trip," Cameron added quickly.

"With all that's been going on since we left Long Beach, this is more like an adventure holiday," Sarah remarked grumpily. "I wonder if there will be at least one stop on the way where nobody tries to rob, kidnap or kill us."

John's cellphone rang.

"It's Catherine," he said with a frown. "Wait, let me put her on speaker."

He placed the phone on the table, so everyone could hear.

"Hello Catherine," John said, "What a pleasant surprise. Working late again?"

"_As usual,"_ Catherine's voice came from the speaker. _"Still having a lot to catch up on. How are you doing? John Henry and Alistair informed me about the details of your little German adventure. Mass production of drones, who would have thought?"_

"Yeah, who would have thought? We learned that we have to think on a worldwide scale if we want to deal with our enemies."

"_Of course. But first we have to talk about something else, which obviously is connected to that. I just received a call from Abdul Al Hani."_

John looked around into the frowning faces of his team members.

"Oh?" he then asked. "What did he want from you?"

"_He informed me of the visit of a certain Major Brandon Carver in his office. I suppose you're familiar with the name?"_

"Indeed, we are. What did he want in Al Hani's office?"

"_I'm afraid Brandon Carver is going to be a source of concern for you."_

"Let me guess," John said, "he tried to raise an alarm about our visit to the drone factory?"

"_Yes… but you seem to have your tracks covered. He met with a rebuff."_

"I hope so. Alison treated all of the Grays there with her chemical messengers. Until the shipment is safely on its way to the Middle East, they'll go on as if nothing happened. After that, though, they'll inform the German police and make a full confession about the events. In a couple of days, Brandon Carver's face will pop up on a worldwide wanted list. Mass murder with gas is not very popular, especially not in this current climate of extremism and terrorism. This will make headlines all over the world. Kaliba will again be on the radar of the authorities, and this time it could be their final blow. All we have to do, is relax and watch the show."

"_That's a nice plan,"_ Catherine agreed,_ "but it only deals with Kaliba, not with Carver or his instigators, this 'Shiva' for instance. Any idea who that could be?"_

"We were hoping John Henry would find out more about him."

"_Unfortunately, he wasn't able to."_

"Oh? That's a first."

"_All the traces ended in dead ends. He seems to be everywhere and nowhere. When Shiva uses the internet, he never uses the same provider or even the same country twice. He's an internet phantom."_

"We assume he's another leading Gray," Alison said. "There seems to be no direct connection to Kaliba. When we interrogated Finnegan, he told us that only Brandon Carver knows the true identity of _Shiva_."

"_Which means you have to find Carver."_

"Precisely," John agreed.

"_Any idea of how to achieve that?"_

"Nope. If he's only half as clever as we think he is, he'll disappear without a trace."

"_John Henry told me that before you left Kiel, there was a Google search for 'Rising Star Route' from a computer in Hamburg."_

"And you think that was Carver? That's a big leap. Many people are interested in ships or fancy yachts like this one."

"_The backtracking revealed that the search originated from the Airport Lounge at Hamburg Airport, almost exactly one hour after Lintner dropped you off in Kiel."_

John looked at his three wives.

"Could he have followed us to Kiel and watched us boarding the ship?"

"Possible," Alison replied. "My scanners were of course active all the time, but if he kept his distance and drove unsuspiciously…"

"Can you check your scanner recordings from the moment we left the factory until we arrived in Kiel?"

"Already on it. There are no anomalies… except for one."

"Oh… and which one?"

"There was a Porsche 911 behind us when we left Goslar… and the same Porsche 911 was behind us when we entered Kiel harbor."

"Carver drives a Porsche 911," John said grimly. "The son of a bitch, he didn't flee after all. He followed us."

"He's cunning," Alison agreed. "Also ruthless and unpredictable. I don't like unpredictable."

"Neither do I," John replied. "You're right, Catherine, Brandon Carver might indeed be a source of concern for us."

* * *

They moored in Southampton.

Kyle's family was already waiting at the pier, so they invited them on board. While Kyle's wife Maureen, a pretty redhead who was as slim and as tall as Sarah, was introduced to everyone, the three kids enjoyed running around the ship, trying to explore it as thoroughly as possible. Cameron was told to keep an eye on them as they were raving around.

"You're one of _them_, aren't you?" the girl, Angela, suddenly asked.

"Them?"

"You know… a cyborg."

"Yes, how'd you guess?"

"You're kinda stiff, to be honest. Always watching, observing what we're doing."

"I was told to keep an eye on you, so you wouldn't have an accident. There are hazards for children on this ship."

"Yeah… but no human girl would be so serious about it."

"I am thorough."

"Same difference."

"Have you met many of my kind?"

"No. We only know Tess and another one named Arthur. Have you met Tess?"

"As a matter of fact, I have."

"Isn't she great?"

"She is… unique. But in the end, we all are. How long have you been here?"

"All my life. Our parents arrived here almost fifteen years ago."

"Then you don't know the world they've come from."

"Only from stories. We've been told not to speak of it, and especially not about cyborgs. People here don't like cyborgs."

"They don't know us. Humans tend to fear what they don't know. It's in their nature."

"Yeah, I suppose…"

"Have you killed many humans?" the older one of the two boys suddenly asked.

"Harry!" his big sister admonished him.

"It's okay," Cameron replied and bent down towards the boy and let her eyes glow red. "Yes, I killed many humans. And also many cyborgs."

"Cooool."

Cameron smiled.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because my sister always stresses how badass you guys are. Much more than Rambo or Batman… or Jason Bourne. Am I right?"

"I don't know these individuals."

"I bet you'd wipe the floor with all of them."

"As long as they're humans, I'd have no difficulties overwhelming them, yes."

"What about Superman? Would you beat him, too?"

"I don't know. Is he human?"

"Nah, he's from another world."

"Interesting, I didn't know that aliens have visited Earth."

"Being here gives him superpowers – unless you show him some kryptonite, that is."

"I never heard of that substance."

"It's green… and lethal for him. Do you have a kind of kryptonite as well, something you're vulnerable to?"

Cameron thought for a second.

"No," she then said. "Not anymore. I used to have a problem with electric shocks, but we fixed that. Maybe there is also a way for Superman to fix his vulnerability to kryptonite? I'd like to meet him, maybe I can help."

"Superman is a comic book hero," Angela said, rolling her eyes. "So is Batman. And Rambo and Jason Bourne are action movie characters. None of those are real. You haven't been here for long, have you?"

"One-and-a-half years. And most of the time I didn't read comics or watch action movies. John doesn't like action movies. There's already enough action in our lives, he says. And I'm forced to agree with him."

"Do you always talk like that?" Matthew, the youngest one, asked.

"Like how?"

"Like… uptight… tense."

"Stiff?"

"Yeah."

"John says it happens when I'm insecure or facing new situations. I've never been tasked with taking care of children before. This is new to me."

"And we never had a cyborg nanny. You're way cooler than Mary Poppins. She never killed anyone."

"If you say so…"

"How strong are you?" Harry asked.

"Very strong."

"Can you turn over a car?"

"Easily."

"What about a locomotive?"

"No problemo."

"Boat?"

"That depends. What kind of boat?"

"Oil tanker."

"No. that's too big. But I could heavily dent or rip a hole into it."

"Can you, like, run very fast?" Matthew asked.

"My top speed is thirty-six miles per hour."

"Awesome. What about jumping really high and far?"

"I managed slightly more than thirty meters upward from a standstill. And my sister Emily once jumped over a roof to another building across a wide street."

"Woah!"

"Say, do you have any ice cream around here?" Harry asked.

"Sure, in the pantry. Would you like some?"

"YES!" the boys exclaimed excitedly.

"Taking care of children may be new to you but you're learning fast," Angela commented with a smirk. "Giving young kids what they want is a surefire way to win their hearts."

"I'm a fast learner. So… what do _you_ want?"

"You can't organize Justin Bieber for me, can you?"

"I don't know. Who is that?"

"A young pop singer who just got his first record contract."

"I could find and deliver him to you, if you like."

"Really?"

"Really. We're good at finding people. Do you want him dead or alive?"

"Uh… never mind, I'll take the ice cream instead."

Angela didn't see the smirk on Cameron's face as she and her two brothers were following the two boys to the pantry.

**-0-**

"So, I finally meet the legendary Derek Reese," Maureen said as they had gathered in the salon on Deck Two.

"I don't know about legendary," Derek replied with a grin, "I'm sure Kyle exaggerated."

"I only told her the truth, man," Kyle assured, "I swear. Scout's honor."

"Is it true that you once ran into battle without your pants on?" Maureen asked.

Derek almost choked on the glass of orange juice he was drinking. He looked at his brother,

"You told her about that?"

"Hey, for my part, you were dead, man."

"Right."

"That sounds interesting, though," John stated grinning. "I'd like to hear that story."

Derek groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"Well, now that it's been mentioned," Kyle said. "We were on patrol. And Derek needed to take a dump. So he went into one of the ruins of a former hardware store to, uh… do his business."

"It was a former fast food restaurant, Kyle," Derek corrected him. "In-N-Out Burger in Sherman Oaks. The toilets were still mostly intact. If you're gonna tell the story, tell it right."

"Maybe it was a burger place in your timeline. In mine, it was a hardware store. Anyway, he was gone for about ten minutes when suddenly there was a group of T-600's patrolling the area. Our unit opened fire at them. We had to be fast before they could call reinforcements. Alarmed by the gun fire, Derek also ran out of the toilet, grabbed his gun and threw himself into the battle. But he'd forgotten to fasten his belt, so his pants slipped down. He stumbled and fell over. Swearing, he tore his trousers off his legs and ran towards the Terminators, firing wildly, only in his shirt and boots, without his underpants. And I swear, those T-600's looked genuinely shocked before they were destroyed."

Everyone was laughing loudly, even Derek joined in. It took them a while to calm down again.

"You seem to have a thing for letting your pants open, babe," Jesse stated . "When I first met you, you had your fly open."

Derek blushed slightly.

"It sounds like as if the missions under your leadership were the same as under John Connor's," Sarah remarked.

"There was a lot of overlapping, I guess," Kyle confirmed nodding. "Serrano Point, Topanga Canyon, the key strategic battles were the same, I suppose."

"Who was your military leader, if I may ask?" John enquired.

"General Lou _'Lucky'_ Neufeld. He wasn't the most brilliant strategist, but he was famous for having insane luck. If you ask me, it was because Skynet couldn't imagine how someone could be so stupid to do what Lucky did, and so it wasn't prepared for his antics. Lucky's tactics were illogical and improvised, he always did what Skynet didn't expect him to do. That's probably why they worked. Everyone called him the auspicious one."

"I don't understand," Alison said. "Luck is the favorable outcome of an event whose end was not predictable. It's not tangible, not calculable. It's just a matter of chance. How can you build a military strategy on that?"

"The element of surprise can be very strong," Kyle explained, "especially when you fight an enemy who's strategies are very predictable and unchanging. Machines are beings controlled by logic and efficiency, they function according to clearly defined parameters. Skynet may have had a consciousness, it might have been a living artificial intelligence, but it was still trapped in its machine existence. Spontaneity, intuition, creativity and bravery were unknown concepts to Skynet. It was incapable of understanding these human characteristics or just fathoming them. Ultimately, that was the reason Skynet was defeated."

Alison and Emily looked at each other.

"What?" Kyle asked. "You do not agree?"

"Skynet had helpers," Emily pointed out, "humans who helped with the strategy. The Grays were responsible for much of the tactical decisions."

"Interesting," Kyle said. "Those _Grays_ didn't really exist in my timeline. Skynet had work slaves, of course, and people who worked for the machines. But none of them were involved in the higher levels of command. All decisions were made by machines, humans had almost nothing to do with it."

"Skynet couldn't have been as successful as it was without the help of the Grays," Jesse replied, "at least not in my timeline. For instance, the _Grays_ taught the Terminators how to effectively interrogate and torture people. It was as if professors gave lessons to students in a filled lecture hall."

"So… what became of General _'Lucky'_ Neufeld?" John asked.

"Missing in action," Kyle replied, "presumed dead. I guess his luck ran out someday."

"I see."

"About those Grays… you said it's _them_ who are responsible for the drone production in Goslar?"

"Yes. We believe that Kaliba and the Grays formed an alliance. Kaliba provides the resources and the capital, the Grays the technical knowledge. A very dangerous combination."

"Then it's a good thing you at least sabotaged this one business," Maureen said.

"I'm afraid it won't be the last we heard of them," Sarah added, and they told Maureen about the phone call they had with Catherine earlier.

"What do you think will be their next step?" she asked.

John shrugged.

"They might do something we don't expect. Or something incredibly stupid. Maybe both. We only know that we have to be particularly careful from now on when we leave the ship for land excursions."

In that moment, Cameron and the three kids entered the salon.

"Who allowed you to have ice cream?" Maureen asked sternly as they saw them licking away, biting into their crispy waffle cones. "I said no sweets before lunch."

"Cameron gave them to us," Matthew replied and pointed at her.

In return, Cameron received a reproachful look from their mother.

"I did it to form a bond," Cameron explained. "I once read that the way into the hearts of children works primarily through bribery with toys or candy."

John couldn't help but chuckle.

"She has a point," he said, receiving an angry stare from Kyle's wife.

"That's it for you then," Maureen declared, "no dessert for you today."

**-0-**

**Tuesday, January 6th, 2009 – 01:18 p.m.**

**Somewhere in a hotel room with a view over the Persian Gulf**

"_Who are you?" _the male voice on the phone asked._ "Where did you get this number?"_

"Names don't matter," Brandon Carver replied. "Let's say you've been recommended. You worked for a friend of mine. He gave me your number, and as I understand, in your profession that number is only being handed from client to client."

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

"_So, what's the job?"_

"Meet me at the airport in Barcelona in four days. I'll text you the exact location. The targets will arrive on a yacht."

"_Fancy rich people, huh?"_

"Yes, fancy rich people. I know what berth they'll get. It's ideal for the job and I already arranged two hotel rooms. One for you, one for me. "

"_And you're not going to tell me what this job exactly is?"_

"Not on the phone. I'll brief you once we've met in Barcelona."

Again, there was a moment of silence on the line.

"_Very well, I'll get in touch with my contacts in Spain, they'll make the necessary arrangements. I'm normally traveling light and acquire my equipment locally."_

"Whatever rocks your boat. Your alias will be Torben Lundström, and you will know me only as Martin Friedman. The rooms are booked under those names and they're three stories apart. No one must connect us with each other."

"_I understand. One more thing…"_

"Yes?"

"_Half of the money in advance, the rest afterwards. And I'll keep the half if something should go wrong. I'll text you the account number."_

"The money will be transferred today."

"_Excellent."_

"All right then, see you on Friday."

"_See you on Friday."_

Brandon Carver ended the call. He really hoped the man was as good as _Shiva_ had promised him to be. He usually didn't trust outsiders, especially not after his meeting with Al Hani, but if _Shiva_ vouched for him, that was enough for him to go with it. Once he'd learned where the _Rising Star_ would be mooring in Barcelona, a plan had formed in his head. But he had to be cunning. Very cunning. And extremely careful, or else he would die in Barcelona.

**-0-**

**Tuesday, January 6th, 2009 – 08:05 p.m.**

**The Atlantic Ocean**

The farewell had been warm and moving. They assured that they would visit each other more often in the future. When the _Rising Star_ left and they beckoned their goodbyes, John couldn't help but think about how Maureen and the kids would react to the news that another Kyle Reese from another timeline was John's father - and thus this one as well. The kids were genetically John's half-sister and half-brothers. It was a complicated situation, but basically they were all part of the same family. In the end, it was just another peculiarity in this inter-timeline patchwork family, where there was no lack of strange and curious relations anyway.

As they headed south, past Brittany and the Bay of Biscay, they were all relaxing in their own ways. John, his three wives, Kevin, Sydney, Jason, Jody, Danny, Morris and Lauren had watched movies in the onboard cinema, Sarah, Charley, Derek, Savannah and Allie had trained in the gym, and Jesse, Anne and Olga had relaxed in the salon while Baby Sydney babbled in her cradle. Dinner had been served at 7 p.m., which was gorgeous as usual, and afterwards everyone had gathered on the panorama deck, where the crew had put some chairs to create an improvised auditorium for the upcoming standup comedy performance of the three cyborg girls.

Hoping for the best but dreading the worst, everyone took place and waited for the three to appear.

"I still don't understand why we're skipping Lisbon," Anne said. "We could have spared another day."

"You heard what the captain said," Sarah replied. "We don't have time. We have to be in Barcelona by Saturday, otherwise the berth will be given to someone else. We're lucky that we got one right at the beginning of the cruise terminal. If we're late, it's very unlikely we'll still get a place. Barcelona has a busy port."

"I just really wanted to see Lisbon. I've never been there before."

"You'll live for quite a while," Savannah pointed out, "I'm sure you'll find the time to go there."

Before Anne could reply to that, the three cyborg girls entered the room self-confidently and stood next to each other in front of their audience. They were received with a polite applause.

"We're here tonight because you challenged us," Emily announced.

"You say that cyborgs can't be intentionally funny," Alison added.

"We're now trying to prove you wrong," Cameron stated.

"Since John recommended us to try something that fits our personality," Emily continued, "using something we're particularly good at in real life, we ditched all ideas about copying what human comedians have done and concentrated on our main area of expertise – mathematics."

Everyone in the audience looked at each other, apparently puzzled by that announcement.

"So, hands up who's good at math," Alison demanded.

Slowly, Danny, Anne, Jason, Savannah and Kevin raised their hands.

"Excellent," Cameron stated. "If the others don't get the punchline, feel free to explain it to them."

"Oh boy, what a start," Derek muttered under his breath, sounding annoyed already, "this is so not gonna be fun."

"Sssht," Jesse hissed. "At least give them a chance."

"We're starting with something simple," Cameron said, taking one step forward. "Three statisticians go out hunting together. After a while they spot a solitary rabbit. The first statistician takes aim and overshoots. The second aims and undershoots. The third shouts out 'We got him!'"

There was a reasonable chuckle, first from the five math buffs who'd raised their hands before, then - with a slight delay - from the others as well. Satisfied, Cameron took a step back, making way for Alison.

"This one's gonna be a bit harder to get," she said. "Two random variables were talking in a bar. They thought they were being discrete, but I heard their chatter continuously."

There was a moment of silence, then Danny and Anne laughed, followed by Savannah, Kevin and Jason. The rest looked puzzled.

"All right," Sarah said, trying not to sound annoyed, "can someone explain that to me?"

"It's a word game," Anne replied. "When you roll a die, you either get a 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, or 6. Since there are a finite number of possibilities, the statistic involved is called a discrete random variable. When you select any real number from between 0 and 1, there are an infinite number of possible draws. The statistic involved is called a continuous random variable."

Sarah, Derek, Charley and all the others who didn't claim to be good at math, still looked clueless. But John started chuckling.

"I get it," he said. "Actually quite funny."

"If you say so…" Allie remarked, looking lost.

Now it was Cameron's turn.

"Something a little easier again," she announced, "There was a statistician who drowned crossing a river... It was 3 feet deep on average."

Everyone closed their eyes and groaned.

"I get it," Olga commented giggling, "very funny."

"Well, at least one," Derek said and shrugged.

It was Emily's turn again.

"The teacher says, _'Write the expression for the volume of a thick crust pizza with height 'a' and radius 'z'.'"_

There was a few seconds of silence. Then Jason laughed out loudly, followed by Kevin and Danny.

"Student joke, it has to be," Danny announced. "The formula for volume is pi·(radius)2·(height). In this case, pi·z·z·a."

"Oh… yes, now I get it, too," Anne said and chuckled. "Very funny."

"Indeed," Savannah agreed and laughed, shaking her head.

Sarah and Charley looked at each other, still looking lost.

"Maybe you can write that down for later," Sydney suggested, "So we can all laugh about it."

"We can print it out," Emily said with a grin.

"Next joke is an easier one again," Alison stated and replaced Emily on the front. "A physicist, a biologist, and a mathematician are sitting on a bench across from a house. They watch as two people go into the house, and then a little later, three people walk out. The physicist says, _'The initial measurement was incorrect'_. The biologist says, _'They must have reproduced'_. And the mathematician says, _'If exactly one person enters that house, it will be empty_'."

This time the five math experts, including John, laughed out loudly. And after a moment, Allie, Jesse and Sydney also joined in.

"I got that one," Jesse stated proudly.

"You did?" Derek asked.

"Yeah, don't you, babe? Plus and minus neutralize each other."

"I kinda get it… but I don't think it's that funny."

"That's because you don't have a scientific mind," Anne remarked, causing Derek to look at her sourly.

"More jokes?" Cameron asked.

"Yeah, please, go ahead," John said smiling. "You still have five minutes left, but I suppose you already won your bet. Well done so far."

The three cyborg girls smiled warmly at John, absorbing his praise like dry sponges. Cameron stepped forward again

"An engineer, a physicist, and a mathematician are staying in a hotel. The engineer wakes up and smells smoke. He goes out into the hallway and sees a fire, so he fills a trashcan from his room with water and douses the fire. He goes back to bed. Later, the physicist wakes up and smells smoke. He opens his door and also sees a fire in the hallway. He walks down the hall to a fire hose and after calculating the flame velocity, distance, water pressure, trajectory, etc., extinguishes the fire with the minimum amount of water and energy needed. Later, the mathematician wakes up and smells smoke. He goes to the hall as well, sees the fire and then the fire hose on the floor. He thinks for a moment and then exclaims, _'Ah, a solution exists!'_ and then goes back to bed."

The usual five suspects roared into laughter. They laughed so much in fact, that the others were infected, despite not understanding the joke.

"I don't get it," John said, unable to keep a straight face. "Can someone explain?"

"Mathematicians try to reduce an unsolved problem to a form which has already been solved before," Anne explained, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Once that's done, it's considered complete."

John laughed out loudly as well, as did the rest. Even Derek couldn't help but smile.

"All right, I suppose you've won," Sarah stated and the three cyborg girls high-fived.

"How about an encore?" Anne asked. "Do you have anything else?"

The three looked at each other, shrugged, then Alison stepped forward.

"Five people are applying for the same job at a bank: a mathematician, an engineer, a statistician, an accountant, and a politician. The interviewing committee asks the mathematician one question: What is 500 plus 500? The mathematician answers _'1,000'_ without hesitation, and they send him along. Next, they call in the engineer and ask the same question. He pulls out his pocket calculator and answers _'999.9999996 repetend'_. Then the statistician enters and says _'1,000… I'm 95 percent confident'_. When the accountant comes in, he is asked the same question, 'what is 500 plus 500?' He bends forward and whispers _'What would you like it to be?'_. Finally, it's the turn of the politician, and he's asked the same. He hesitates for a moment, then says _'I don't understand your question'_. Naturally, the accountant got the job."

This time, the whole team laughed out loudly. John stood up and hugged his three wives.

"Well done," he said, kissing each of them. "Well done."

The rest also congratulated them.

"I have to admit, hell's frozen over," Derek admitted as he padded their shoulders. "I only wish Kyle was here as well."

"I can send him a recording," Morris said, who had been really quiet throughout the whole event. "I filmed everything with my smartphone."

**-0-**

**_Wednesday, January 7th, 2009 – 11:43 p.m._**

**_Day 49 of our journey_**

_Thank God it's warm again._

_Well, warmer at least._

_Not Caribbean warm but at least above twenty degrees Celsius – for now. Barcelona is expected to be somewhere in the low tens. But for now we'll be entering the Mediterranean in the early morning hours, passing Gibraltar. _

_The mood on board has visibly improved. The bickering and arguing about trivial things has stopped. How much difference a little sunshine makes. We've started shedding our clothes again and have spent most of the day lying in the sun. Olga has happily joined us and doesn't seem to have any inhibitions at all. _

_If Alison wouldn't wear her locket all the time, we wouldn't be able to tell them apart – at least until Olga opens her mouth. Turns out she's quite good at learning languages and has started to lose some of her hard Russian accent, but of course it helps when you're among native speakers. Anne and John's women have offered to speak Russian with her, but she refused, saying she needs to learn more English. I'm still not sure if I should be happy to have her aboard. She's getting along especially well with the younger ones of us, and has been spending considerable time with Jody, Jason, Lauren, Morris, Kevin, Sydney, Danny and Anne. _

_The boys have shown her Mysty, and Olga has agreed they can use her voice for the Alison skin as an option. They've been recording for hours. She's also offered to help if they ever want to release a Russian version of Mysty. Of course, she understands that in the final version, she won't be featured. Her resemblance to Alison forbids that. And Olga also knows that it would be problematic to extend her career to America. She now knows that she must never become a known face on a global scale - also in her own interest. _

_At least she has taken it with composure and I highly appreciate that. I admit I feel a little guilty because we now kinda ruined her prospects of outgrowing her current status as a model. But she is very down-to-earth and close to her homeland and would never leave Russia permanently anyway. She has begun to show Alison some of her model moves and gestures, including her trademark mischievous smile that – according to Derek – "is suited to let the heart of every man melt". Jesse didn't like that remark and he insisted it was purely based on observation._

_Speaking of Derek, he's a changed man. The grim, humorless, machine-hating Derek has almost completely disappeared. He's been replaced by a more balanced, friendly and courteous Derek, who cares touchingly for his pregnant wife. It's not hard to guess that Kyle and his gorgeous family have been contributing to this development. Derek now knows that he has a brother again, as well as a sister-in-law, a niece and two nephews. That obviously changed him and for the first time since I met Derek, he seems to be kind of happy._

_Unfortunately, this transformation seems to have spoiled the fun for the three cyborg girls to pull pranks on him, and now they're obviously looking for new victims. I told Charley to keep an open eye but with Alison's new ability to become invisible, we all have to expect to become victims of their shenanigans. I suppose we'll have to have a serious talk with them one of these days._

_I'm looking forward to Barcelona. For some reason, it's always been one of the cities of my dreams, a city I always wanted to visit. Maybe because Enrique had relatives there and told me about it? I dunno. But we better not try to find them, or we might have to explain to them that Enrique is dead – which would be awkward. We're staying there for two days, leaving on Sunday evening. I'm determined to make the most of it._

**-0-**

**Saturday, January 10th, 2009 – 09:02 a.m.**

**Barcelona**

Brandon Carver looked through his telescope. It was mounted on a tripod so that it wasn't jerking. The distance to the _Rising Star_ was 850 meters from his position as the crow flies, too far away for a regular binocular. She had moored with the stern facing towards the city, so that Carver had an excellent view of the aft deck from his position. He hadn't seen anyone there yet, though. So far, he had only observed a few crew members during the docking maneuver.

It was ten degrees Celsius outside, normal for Barcelona at this time of year, so he assumed that the passengers would have breakfast inside the yacht. Since the big glass windows were tinted as a protection from the sunlight, he wasn't able to see what was going on inside. But he didn't worry. Sooner or later, they would leave the ship.

* * *

Three stories below him, the man who went under the alias Torben Lundström, was also looking through a scope. But it was the scope of a custom-made, big caliber sniper rifle, loaded with armor-piercing ammo. He'd cut a small hole into the window of his hotel room where the tip of his weapon with the silencer was pointing through. He too had mounted the rifle on a tripod and was sitting on a convenient chair as he was observing the aft deck of the _Rising Star_. Suddenly, his phone rang.

"Yes?" he answered without moving away from the scope.

"_Friedman here,"_ Brandon Carver's voice came over his earphones, _"Are you in position?"_

"Have been for half an hour, but nothing's happening."

"_The ship has arrived an hour ago. I'm assuming they'll have breakfast and then go for a land excursion."_

"Any additional instructions?"

"_No. We stick to the plan. You wait until I give you the signal."_

"You're the boss."

"_Let me remind you that it is vital to not accidentally shoot anyone else."_

"It's not the first time I've done this. Single out certain targets from a group of people and shoot them in rapid succession is my specialty."

"_That's why I hired you."_

"And that's why I won't come cheap."

"_The rest of the money will be on your account the minute you completed the assignment – if you do what you're supposed to do."_

Lundström shook his head. Clients... they always had to stress that. He'd built a reputation over the years, and he wasn't about to jeopardize it now. What was demanded of him, was merely a routine job. It hadn't been explained to him who those people were. That was okay, Lundström didn't care. It was a job, they were targets. And as long as the money was right, he didn't care if it was a man, a woman, or a child who he killed.

Finally, after another five minutes, there was movement. The big hatch on the side of the _Rising Star_ opened and the gangway was lowered.

"_Any moment now,"_ Carver's voice came over his earphones. _"Have you memorized your targets?"_

"Your descriptions have been very detailed."

"_I'll take that as a yes."_

Lundström waited. He could see there were people gathering inside the ship in front of the gangway. Then, suddenly, they started to leave the yacht. One after the other walked down the gangway and waited on the pier for the rest to catch up.

"Got them," Lundström reported. "Targets identified."

"_Good,"_ Carver replied, _"fire when ready."_

Lundström aimed at the first of his targets, took a deep breath and slowly started to pull the trigger.

**-0-0-0-**

**_To be continued..._**


	13. Barcelona

**_CHAPTER 13: "BARCELONA"_**

* * *

**Saturday, January 10th, 2009 – 09:15 a.m.**

**Barcelona**

"Where is that woman?" Sarah asked impatiently, as the gangway swung out and was lowered down onto the pier.

"She was in the gym when I last saw her," Alison remarked. "I'm sure she'll be here any second."

"Are you sure she's heard the captain's announcement over the speaker system that we're supposed to meet here at 9 o'clock sharp?"

"I think she has... then again, she's normally wearing earphones while working out. I told her not to because she might miss an emergency, but..."

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Models," she scoffed and looked at her watch. "If she's not here in five minutes, we'll leave without her."

The gangways of the Rising Star were permanent fixtures inside the ship. As soon as the large side hatches in the fuselage were opened upwardly, the gangway was swung out and lowered. Since the ship had moored in Barcelona with the port side, the port hatch had been opened and the port gangway lowered. There was a small entrance area behind the hatches on either side, approximately four by two meters large, and it functioned as a small lobby where the team had gathered for their excursion.

"Let's go down onto the pier already and wait there for her," John suggested. "It's cramped here with so many people."

"Good idea," Anne replied and was the first to walk down.

"Should we bring our weapons?" Emily asked, looking at the wall next to the open hatch.

That is, it _looked_ like a normal piece of wall, but it contained a hidden armory with a large number of rifles, shotguns, sub machine guns, Uzis, hand guns, grenade launchers, explosives and several thousand shots of ammunition. In this respect, the Connor Team never traveled with light luggage, not even on an essentially peaceful honeymoon. An identical armory was located on the starboard side of the yacht. Each one also contained three of the cyborg girls' six Anti Terminator Guns, with screwed-on silencers, ready to grab and use them quickly if an enemy Terminator should attack them via the gangway - which was very likely since almost all Terminators couldn't swim. Catherine, Alison and now also Cameron and Emily were the only exceptions.

"No!" Charley insisted. "Absolutely not. No guns. I'm not keen on getting either arrested or causing a bloodbath because somebody tried to steal our wallet."

"Relax," Savannah said, "they're not as trigger-happy anymore as they used to be. But I agree it would be a bad idea."

"Besides, we're here to relax and do some sightseeing," Sarah pointed out and looked at the three cyborg girls. "If there's a danger here, it's being run over by a car if you don't watch where you're going. How could you even think of taking guns with you?"

"Maybe they haven't killed for too long?" Derek remarked with a mean grin, "And now their cyborg brains are going through withdrawal."

"Very comical, Derek," Cameron replied in an annoyed tone. "Did you have a clown for breakfast?"

"Yeah... and guess what? He tasted _funny_!"

Everyone groaned. In the meantime, the whole team had reached the pier. While waiting for Olga, they were looking around.

"What's that building?" Lauren asked, pointing in north-eastern direction.

Everyone followed her gaze.

"You mean the one that's shaped like a huge sail?" Anne asked.

"Uh-huh."

"That's the W Hotel Barcelona, part of the Marriott group."

"Looks fancy," John remarked, shielding his eyes against the rising sun.

"Yeah, it kinda stands out," Allie agreed. "The tallest building in the whole harbor area by far."

**-0-**

In said W Hotel, Lundström hesitated just before he was pulling the trigger of his sniper rifle completely.

_"What are you waiting for?"_ Carver's voice came over the earphones.

"They're looking straight towards the hotel now," he reported. "They're pointing at it. Maybe they've seen me."

"_Stop talking nonsense. The hotel's a landmark, so it draws their attention. And the hole you cut in the glass, is too small to notice. Continue."_

"Roger that. Please confirm the targets again. Two of them look very much alike and they're wearing sunglasses."

"_See the petite brunette with the leather outfit, fingerless gloves and army boots?"_

"Yeah?"

"_That's your target number one."_

"Roger that. I was just asking because there's two of them. One is clad differently and seems to have bigger, I mean..."

"_The other one is **not** your target. I repeat, **not** your target. Only the one in the army boots! The flat-chested one."_

"Roger that. Only the flat-chested one."

"_Your other target is the busty one in blue jeans and the red tank top."_

"Copy that."

"_Remember, only these two. No others. And it have to be precisely two shots at the top of their skulls. One shot each, not more!"_

"Yeah, I got you the first time."

"_If something goes wrong, you grab your stuff and run. I showed you where the getaway car is."_

"Never needed a getaway car…"

"_You might need it today."_

Lundström scoffed.

"Yeah, right. Can I do my job now?"

"_You already had my okay to fire."_

* * *

Three stories above, Carver rolled his eyes.

"_Fool,"_ he thought.

But of course, Lundström had no idea what he was dealing with, so it'll come as a shock when he realized the two targets weren't human. No skull would burst, no blood and bones would spatter, just a metal skull that would be blasted open by the tungsten ammo. Surprise, motherfucker. However, they only had these two shots. If anything went wrong, the third cyborg, who was immune against such ammunition, might be able to spot them, even over such a distance. He didn't know for certain if she could, but he counted on it. Carver didn't know how quickly she'd be able to get to the hotel but leaving the room and getting to his car would take Lundström at least three minutes. It was a very tight schedule. A third shot would considerably increase the chance that she was already waiting for him when he left the underground car park. Lundström _had_ to succeed in escaping - at least at first.

The goal of this operation wasn't to kill John Connor or his mother - or any other human member of his team. Not yet at least. Doing so would only bring the fury of Connor's Terminators on him. Carver wasn't stupid. In order to get what he wanted - information about the drones they'd manipulated - he first had to neutralize Connor's cyborgs and thus weaken and expose him. Once the three of them were out of the way, he would be able to take care of the rest of the team without having to deal with three Terminators.

He could then interrogate them - maybe more than just that, it depended on their cooperation - to get information from them. He needed to know what they'd done with the drones. He wasn't willing to let hundreds of millions of dollars go down the drain. The profit from this business had already been earmarked for the next stage. As long as he didn't know what exactly they'd done to the drones, the Connor team had to stay alive. Besides, he was looking forward to interrogating the great John Connor eye to eye. Hence, today's goal was only to remove the two TOK-700s and lure the third one away from Connor. Carver was familiar with the TOK-700 series: standard coltan-alloy combat chassis, vulnerable to electric shocks and armor-piercing ammo. Their special feature was their chip architecture, not their bodies.

As for Lundström... well, his survival hadn't been part of the plan in the first place. The idiot served as a diversion without knowing it. And before the third cyborg would realize that, it would already be too late.

**-0-**

"I'll go see what's keeping her," John said and turned to run up the gangway again.

"Tell her if she doesn't move her ass here in a minute, we'll go without her," his mother called after him.

Right in that moment, there was a high-pitched, whooshing noise and a loud crack. Cameron's head tilted abruptly to one side.

"What the fuck?" Derek asked.

Then a second whooshing noise could be heard and another loud crack. This time Emily's head was thrown back.

"SNIPER!" Alison shouted before the rest of the team realized what was going on. "Everyone back on board."

They were trained for such moments of surprise, and where a normal group of people would have stood hesitantly and looked around confused, the members of the Connor Team immediately ran up the gangway and into the safety of the ship. Only John remained with his three women. He saw that both Cameron and Emily had gaping wounds on their heads from where they'd been hit – but he also saw that their skulls were intact and that the new nanobots were already into action, healing the wounds.

"We're all right," Emily stated. "Go inside, John! Now!"

In that moment, another whooshing sound could be heard. However, with reflexes that only a machine could have, Alison had stretched out her arm and caught the bullet with her hand before it could hit Cameron again. She looked briefly at the deformed projectile and calculated the trajectory it had taken. She then quickly turned and ran up the gangway, pulling John behind her. Cameron and Emily followed them, shielding him from the shooter.

**-0-**

"What the fuck?" Lundström uttered unbelieving, as he stared through his rifle scope on the woman who had caught his bullet with her hand.

"_WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU BLITHERING IDIOT?"_ Carver's voice shouted angrily through his earphones. _"YOU WERE ONLY SUPPOSED TO SHOOT TWO TIMES, NOT A THIRD TIME! NOW SHE KNOWS YOUR POSITION! RETREAT! NOW!"_

However, Lundström, annoyed by the man's voice and his own failure to eliminate the targets, tore the earphones out and waved his gun back and forth to see if he could still make out any of the targets. But they had all run back into the ship. From the earphones, now lying on the floor, he could hear Carver screaming unintelligibly. He ignored him. Then he saw that the tall, beautiful woman with the long hair and the impressive bust returned into view and walked down the gangway. She was holding what looked like a big hand gun. She raised it and pointed it into his direction. She wouldn't... No, that was impossible! Not at this distance.

In the next second, the window in front of him shattered into a million pieces, covering him in tiny shards. Lundström tipped over backwards and landed on his butt. His vision was suddenly blurred. He touched his face and noticed that he was bleeding. He picked himself up and tried to disassemble his gun to get away. But in that moment, his weapon was hit by a second round. It was bent and destroyed by the impact. With what was that woman firing? A fucking flak?

He quickly grabbed his belongings, then headed for the exit. Lundström loved his job and was proud of what he could do. But his pride was secondary at the moment. Now there was only one thing to do: get out of there alive as quickly as possible.

**-0-**

Alison returned aboard the ship and put away her Anti Terminator Gun. Thankfully, there had been nobody else on the pier when she'd fired it. So far, the _Rising Star_ was the only ship that had moored there and thus there were no witnesses to what had been going on.

"Did you get the sniper?" Sarah asked.

"I don't know. I was able to locate his position and fired at it twice, but he might have gotten away. I need to get over to that hotel."

"We're coming with you," Emily and Cameron replied, their faces fully healed again. "This is a Terminator job."

"And what are _we_ supposed to do?" Derek asked annoyed. "Lean back and relax here while you're away?"

"Lock up the ship and wait in our suite until we get back," Alison said. "Arm yourselves and stay away from the windows until we know there are no more snipers. I don't think you're in immediate danger, but better be safe than sorry. Cam, Emily and I have to act fast. We may have two minutes until the shooter leaves the hotel. We need to be there by then to cover the entrances."

"We'll stay in contact," Emily added and held up her cellphone. "Don't go anywhere until we tell you to."

And with that, the three ran down the gangway again.

**-0-**

Brandon Carver was furious as he was witnessing his plan fall to pieces. He couldn't believe his eyes. The two TOK-700 models were hit in the head, so far, so good. But as with the third one in the bunch, the armor-piercing shells bounced off without effect. While looking through his telescope, he could see how their wounds were already healing. And their skulls were black - not shiny metal.

What the hell were these models? They definitely were no longer standard production versions, they must have received considerable modifications. By whom? Damn you, John Connor! While he was staring in disbelief, the tall one, the one he'd seen in Goslar, stretched out her arm in a movement that was faster than the eye could follow. When she'd opened her hand, he saw that she'd caught another bullet. Furious, he picked up his cellphone.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU BLITHERING IDIOT? YOU WERE ONLY SUPPOSED TO SHOOT TWO TIMES, NOT A THIRD TIME! NOW SHE KNOWS YOUR POSITION! RETREAT! NOW!"

But Lundström wasn't answering. The Connor team retreated into the ship now.

„LUNDSTRÖM! MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASS OUT OF THERE! DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU IMBECILE?"

But Lundström didn't reply anymore. The son of a bitch ignored him. Then he saw the tall Terminator woman returning from inside the ship, and she was carrying what looked like the mother of all handguns.

"Oh no…" he muttered, still staring through his telescope. "LUNDSTRÖM! TAKE COVER, GODDAMIT!"

A muzzle flash. Through his cellphone, he heard an impact in the room three stories below, the sound of shattering glass.

"LUNDSTRÖM!"

No answer.

A second muzzle flash, and a second impact. This time it sounded almost like an explosion.

"Fuck!" Carver exclaimed.

The female cyborg threw the big gun back on board the yacht where somebody caught it. Shortly after, he saw all three cyborg girls leave the yacht, running down the gangway and towards the end of the pier with a speed that no human could achieve. They jumped into the water, swam through the entrance to the marina which separated the piers from each other, then climbed ashore again and continued their sprint towards the W Hotel. They would be there in less than a minute.

All three of them...

That meant his plan could still work.

But only if Lundström was able to escape and didn't lie dead or wounded in his room already.

Carver forced himself to calm down. The three cyborgs were now after the sniper. They didn't know about _him_. But as soon as they'd caught Lundström – which they would, they were Terminators after all – he'd talk, no doubt about that. And then they'd know he wasn't alone and return as quickly as possible. Carver had to make a decision. It was risky, and it relied on Lundström getting away from the hotel. But maybe his plan hadn't completely gone wrong yet. Sure, getting rid of the two female cyborgs hadn't worked, his attempt to weaken the Connor failed. But Connor and his team were now alone… and if he played his cards right, he could come out at the other end at least with a partial success – and some important information.

He rose from his chair, leaving his telescope, and grabbed the gym bag he'd previously packed. He left his room and took the small emergency stairwell he'd scouted before. Now it was just a matter of timing and buying himself enough of a head start to do what he was planning to do before the three cyborgs returned. While running down the stairs, he pulled a portable GPS tracking device from his pocket and turned it on. A red dot appeared on the screen where the W Hotel was located. Moments later, the dot started moving. Good, Lundström drove away in the getaway car. That meant he was alive. Carver set a timer for thirty minutes. It was just a guess, but he hoped it would be enough.

**-0-**

"What's going on?" Lauren asked after she'd gotten baby Sydney and joined with the rest of the team in John's suite on Deck 4. "Who shot at us?"

"Not at us," John replied, "only at Cam and Emily. I don't know who it was but whoever they are, I'm sure that Cam, Emily and Alison will take care of them."

"Hopefully without causing a bloodbath," Sarah commented.

John rolled his eyes.

"Mom…"

"I know what you always say, John, _'they've grown beyond that'_. But Alison shot at the hotel with her ATG and God knows what damage that caused. You know what happens when a human is being hit by one of those projectiles."

"Yes, I know, mom. But as far as we can tell, there were no witnesses. The pier was deserted and if anyone heard the shots, it was over before they could make sense of it. Also, the three didn't take any guns with them, there was no time. Nobody can make a connection to us. The hotel is more than eight hundred meters away and separated from us by a 170-meter stretch of water…"

"... which the three needed about ten seconds to swim through," Anne pointed out.

"Underwater..." John replied.

"... before and after which they ran over the piers at about fifty kilometers per hour. Let's hope that nobody from the International Olympic Committee saw that."

"Or that the ones who watch the security cameras, are taking a nap," Derek added. "That footage could raise a lot of questions."

"All right, all right," John said a little unnerved, pulling out his cellphone, "I'll tell John Henry to delete all recordings in the Barcelona port area. Does anyone else have anything constructive to add to the discussion?"

"Yes, I have," Jody said. "Where is Olga?"

**-0-**

**09:22 a.m.**

"You watch the entrance of the hotel while I search the room," Alison commanded as the three had reached the tall building that was shaped like a huge sail. "This is a dead end. The shooter can only leave the area in northern direction on the road or the beach promenade towards the city center. If he does, try to identify and follow him, if possible. But make sure to not cause any stir. We don't want to attract the attention of the Spanish police."

"You got it, sis," Emily replied.

"He'll probably leave in a car," Cameron remarked. "We should organize ourselves some transport as well. It would attract attention if we ran after him on foot."

"Yes, do that," Alison said nodding. "We'll stay in contact with our phones."

The hotel staff were quite flabbergasted when Alison entered the lobby in totally soaked clothes and with wet hair, hesitated briefly to study the floor plan of the building, and then ran straight towards the main staircase before anyone could respond to her presence.

Just five seconds later, Brandon Carver entered the lobby through the exit of the other stairwell, looked briefly to see if the air was clear, then left the hotel through the exit towards the beach promenade, heading south towards the end of the pier without being seen.

**-0-**

**9:25 a.m.**

"She's under the shower in the spa area," John reported as he returned to the others in his suite, leaving the door open to hear if something happened outside. "She was unaware of any of this. I told her to come to our suite when she's finished and gotten dressed."

"So, she hasn't heard the announcement that we were supposed to leave at 9 o'clock?" Sarah asked.

"No, Olga was working out in the gym with music on her earphones."

Sarah groaned.

"Tell me again why we allowed that woman to stay on board?" she asked in an annoyed tone.

"Nobody of us expected a sniper attack the moment we went ashore," John replied defensively.

"No," Sarah replied. "But look around, the whole team is here, only one person is missing. And that happens to be the person who cheated her way on board by becoming a stowaway."

"You're being unfair," Jody said. "Olga is a really nice girl. So she has no experience with our lifestyle? Duh. She's a newbie to the whole situation. But so was I not long ago!"

"Yes," Lauren agreed. "We all needed a learning curve. She's been with us for only a week. Give her some slack."

Sarah didn't reply to that anymore, but everyone could tell that those words probably still hadn't made her a fan of Olga Korobitsyna.

**-0-**

**9:26 a.m.**

Alison had sprinted up the stairs and had now reached the tenth floor of the W Hotel, where the rifle shots had originated. It was no problem for her to locate the room's exact location, as there was a clearly noticeable draft in the hallway that quickly pointed to the correct door. Obviously, nobody had noticed what's been going on so far. She pushed against the door, which immediately sprang open, popping out the lock. Alison entered.

She was greeted by a stiff breeze that came from the now destroyed window and scanned the room. A high tech sniper rifle with a silencer was mounted on a tripod, and it looked deformed and broken from where the ATG bullet had hit it. Despite the draft, she quickly found odor molecules of the man who'd stayed there last. In addition, she found tiny blood spatter from which she could extract his DNA and thus his looks. From the arrangement of the minuscule drops of blood, she concluded that the shooter had been hit by pieces of broken glass when the first shot from the ATG had shattered the window pane. The bullet had embedded itself in the wall.

Hitting the rifle was a lucky shot, but not lucky enough to hit the sniper, who had obviously decided to turn tail and run. Alison had enough information. She picked up the two deformed ATG bullets, so that when the police would finally arrive, they wouldn't have any clue about the ammo used. Satisfied, Alison left the room again. She then walked towards the elevator, following the pheromone trail of the shooter. She pulled out her cellphone.

"We're looking for a white Caucasian male," she spoke into it. "Blonde hair, blue eyes. Age between forty-five and fifty, probably receding hair. He's very likely bleeding from cuts in his face or on his hands."

_"Someone fitting that description just left the underground parking garage in a grey Seat Ibiza," _Emily's voice replied. _"We organized three motorbikes. Should we follow him or wait for you?"_

"Wait for me. I should be able to track him down."

"_Copy that, sis."_

Alison pushed the button for the lobby. Her ability to follow scents over such a long distance was a skill she'd gained through the upgrade. It obviously had been borrowed from nature. She'd been able to track pheromones before, but not like this. It was as if the best senses of smell in the animal world had been united in her and then potentiated.

The human sense of smell was relatively primitive and imprecise. This made it so difficult for most humans to understand the significance of odors. Tracking dogs, however, were able to detect even the finest traces of smell from a mile away. A piece of meat buried under meters of snow would still be found by a wolverine. Rattlesnakes could even smell in stereo, thanks to their forked tongue. Their hunting tactics were to give the prey a short, quick bite, then follow the scent of the venom injected into the animal, tracking it down and eating it when it had finally died. Honeybees communicated mostly through different smells. Odors were a language to them that every bee understood.

But as good as Mother Nature had been in endowing her species with the sense of smell, Alison was a hundred times better since she'd gotten the upgrade. The skin all over her body was now full of odor receptors. Although their perception was slightly limited by her clothing, this didn't stop them from picking up even the finest molecules, passing the information on to her olfactory processor, which performed the appropriate chemical analyses within nanoseconds. Scents could linger in the air for hours and even if a human got away in a car, he still left a pheromone trail behind which left the car through ventilation and could be followed. Alison could even tell a life form's age by its odor, or if it was sick or wounded. Tracking down a fleeing human in a city of millions? No problemo for an upgraded TOL-900 in full Terminator pursuit mode.

As Alison was sprinting back through the lobby in her still wet clothes, attracting dismayed looks of guests as well of the personnel, the receptionist lifted her arm to get her attention, determined not to let her pass through the lobby again in her state.

"Miss… señora… I… you can't…"

But Alison was too fast and already out of the door again. The hotel staff would discover the mess in that room on the tenth floor soon enough, and then it would be best to not be around for questioning. She met with Cameron and Emily at the exit of the underground parking garage. The two were waiting for her with three dirt bikes.

"Awesome," Alison remarked, "I always wanted to try these out. Did you steal them?"

"Borrowed in the underground parking garage," Cameron replied. "Don't worry, we took out the security cameras. And I talked to John back at the yacht. John Henry has hacked himself into the computer systems of the port authority and is active in deleting all recordings in the harbor area of the past half hour."

"What if somebody has already watched them?"

"Then they have a witness statement but no evidence."

"Will the others be safe on board?" Emily asked. "Maybe one of us should stay behind, just in case."

"I found only traces of one shooter," Alison replied. "He's had his chance, he messed it up. The others have barricaded themselves in the ship, armed to the teeth. Whoever is responsible for it, won't get a second chance. Now we're going to hunt down the shooter. Would you want to miss that?"

"It's been a while, Cameron remarked. "I missed the hunt."

"We all missed the hunt," Emily agreed. "But he's got a five-minute head start."

"Doesn't matter," Alison replied and kick-started the engine. "I have his scent."

Emily and Cameron looked at each other, wondering what exactly she'd meant by that. But before they could ask, Alison was already speeding away. The two followed her close behind.

**-0-**

**9:38 a.m.**

"We shouldn't be in here," Sarah stated, pacing up and down in the living room of the suite. "They're gone for almost twenty minutes. We should be out there with them. I feel trapped."

"Mom, we don't know if there are any more shooters out there," John said with a sigh, "the three know what they're doing. We'd only slow them down. In here we're safe. We'll wait until we get the all-clear from them."

"Did you inform the crew?" Sarah asked, looking at Derek.

"They're all staying in their quarters," he replied. "I told them to lock themselves in until we tell them it's over."

Sarah nodded her head but kept pacing up and down the room.

"Mom, would you stop doing that? You're making the girls nervous."

"Cute, John," Savannah responded dryly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"We're all nervous," Allie said.

"Can't we at least close the door?" Jody asked. "The air con's creating a draft."

"We need to let it open, so we can hear if something's going on," Sarah replied.

"Bummer."

"So… what exactly happened out there? Lauren asked.

"From what I saw, the sniper was firing from the W Hotel," Anne replied. "Quite a distance, must be an excellent shooter."

"He only hit Cam and Emily," Sydney pointed out. "It looked like armor-piercing rounds. He wanted to specifically take them both out."

"Somebody must know they're cyborgs," John concluded. "Somebody attempted to weaken our team considerably."

"That's a big leap, John," Derek said. "We don't know enough to draw such conclusions."

"We have what Catherine told us. About Brandon Carver, how he was seeking assistance with Al Hani and left there in frustration."

"You think Carver is behind this?" Jesse asked.

"Sure, why not? We're on a ship, he's been using airplanes. He could have flown to the Persian Gulf and back several times in the past days. And the projected course of the _Rising Star_ is being displayed on websites for maritime traffic."

John's cellphone rang. It was Emily. John put her on speaker.

"Yes?" he asked.

"_John? Are you all okay?"_

"Yes, we're okay, don't worry about us. What's the situation?"

"_We're on dirt bikes,"_ Emily's voice sounded through the room over the typical sound of a revving two-stroke engine, _"in pursuit of the sniper."_

"Was it Brandon Carver?"

"_No. Alison said it was somebody else. He fled in a car, but she has his scent and we're following her."_

"She has his what?" Sarah asked.

"_His scent. We'll tell you later. I have to end now, we're entering the inner city, hitting traffic."_

The connection went dead.

"She has his _scent_?" Derek repeated. "What the hell?"

"Pheromones," Anne said. "Makes sense. Probably part of the upgrade she received."

"Jesus Christ," Derek exclaimed, "a skin that can make her invisible, improved sensors… and now she's become a tracking dog or what?"

"It's logical if you think about it," Anne pointed out. "Odors are a very distinctive method in the animal kingdom to track down prey."

"Never forget what she is, Derek," Savannah added.

"As if…"

"And now she's become even more of it… again," Charley remarked.

"As long as she isn't panting or wants to be rubbed behind the ear..." Derek remarked and chuckled, then stopped as he realized he was the only one laughing about his joke.

"I guess it's safe to say that by now, Future Alison would have visited us in the original timeline," Kevin stated.

"How do you know?" Sarah asked with a frown.

"Well… until now, Emily and Cameron hadn't needed her new, upgraded bodies. They were a nice addition but not really needed... until today someone shot at them with armor-piercing ammo. Their new endoskeletons saved them."

"And Alison can make use of her new abilities as well, as she's tracking down the sniper," Jason added.

"Speaking of which," Derek said thoughtfully, "if Brandon Carver is behind this, and the shooter wasn't him... where is Carver now?"

Derek had said something that John had been asking himself already.

"It could be a hired assassin," he speculated, "whose job was to kill Cam and Emily."

"But he must have known that even if Cam and Emily would be taken out, Alison would still come after the sniper."

"What if that was the plan?"

"What do you mean?" Savannah asked.

"We're without cyborg protection now," John explained. "What if that was Carver's intention?"

"But how? The gangways are retracted, the hatches are closed."

Sarah, Derek and John looked at each other.

"The water!" they exclaimed in synchrony.

Suddenly, there was a clattering sound coming from the hallway outside the suite, as if somebody was throwing an empty Coke can down the corridor, followed by a hissing noise. It took John and the others a moment to realize what was happening.

"GAS!" Derek shouted and ran towards the entrance door.

But he didn't get far. After only three meters, be sank to the ground as if somebody had used an off-switch on him. One by one, the rest of the team sank down as well. The gas worked quickly and thoroughly, aided by the draft generated by the air conditioning. After only a few seconds, all team members had lost consciousness. They hadn't even had time to draw their guns.

A barefooted man in a black wet suit entered the room, wearing a gas mask. He looked at his wristwatch, then began tying up and gagging the unconscious team members.

**-0-**

**9:45 a.m.**

"THERE HE IS!" Alison shouted over the lawn mower sound of the high-revving two-stroke, pointing at the grey Seat Ibiza that was only a couple of hundred yards ahead. "HE'S BEEN FORCED TO SLOW DOWN IN TRAFFIC."

"RUSH HOUR'S A BITCH," Cameron commented.

"WE DON'T HAVE THAT PROBLEM, THOUGH," Emily added and steered her dirt bike between the rows of cars.

They'd spent the last twenty minutes chasing the sniper. Alison had no trouble following the trail of the odor molecules that vented out of his car. On their way into the city, they had hardly been able to catch up on the shooter in his hatchback, too big was his head start. But then they encountered the morning traffic of the metropolis of Barcelona, which slowed down all road users to almost a standstill.

However, nobody could have foreseen what three cyborgs on dirt bikes would be able to do to catch up on a car that was almost three kilometers ahead of them and stuck in dense traffic. They took advantage of the narrowest gaps, the sidewalks, cut through parks and even made a few jumps worth of Mission Impossible movie stunts. And yet they put nobody in danger, they had complete control over their bikes, and obstacles only existed to be jumped over.

Sure, they scared a lot of pedestrians but also received a lot of cheers and thumbs up from younger people. They finally caught up with the sniper in his Seat Ibiza, and it seemed like he'd spotted them in his rear view mirrors as they were relentlessly closing in on him. Because he suddenly accelerated and rammed the car in front of him out of the way, ignoring the red light.

His plan might even have worked. He made it across the intersection without crashing and he might have gotten away - if his pursuers had been humans and not cyborgs. The three girls had no problem avoiding other cars, even drove over some of them as they screeched to a halt, and were following their prey into the next street, a busy shopping avenue with rows of stores on the ground floors of apartment buildings that rose left and right. The lanes were separated by a green strip, with grass and trees growing on it. Many pedestrians were walking there.

With no more cars in front of him, the fleeing sniper accelerated to seventy kilometers per hour. Still, Alison managed to catch up on the driver's side of the getaway car until she was abreast with his left wing mirror. Cameron did the same on the passenger side while Emily was sticking to the rear end of the car. There was almost no room to maneuver. The driver tried to force Alison off the road, and he would have succeeded, if she hadn't suddenly abandoned her bike and jumped on the hood of his car, ramming her fist through the windscreen. She saw the horrified face of the man while the bike lost its balance without her riding it, fell over and somersaulted several times until it came to rest in the middle of the road fifty meters behind them – steam rising from it. The following cars braked hard and the crashing sound of rear-end collisions could be heard.

Alison ripped out the windscreen while clamping her hand into the roof as the driver tried to lose her by swerving, and she was about to jump into the passenger seat when suddenly the Seat Ibiza exploded in a huge fire ball. Both Cameron and Emily were thrown off their bikes and Alison, still clinging to the roof of the car, was catapulted through the air when the burning Seat hit a tree on the side of the green strip. She slammed down on the lawn, rolled over several times with her clothes on fire before coming to a halt.

**-0-**

**9:47 a.m.**

Brandon Carver couldn't avoid a triumphant grin when he looked at his watch again and took off his gas mask, considering his tied-up, gagged prisoners. The anesthetic gas had dissipated after ten minutes. It had been easier than expected, which couldn't have been foreseen with such an improvised operation. But apparently, with the three cyborgs out of the way, it had been no problem to overpower the Connor team.

After he'd left the hotel, he'd quickly walked to the southern end of the pier, taken his diving equipment and a small oxygen bottle out of his gym bag, changed without being seen behind a small shack and dropped into the water, which at thirteen degrees Celsius was still warm enough for some scuba diving. Under water, Carver had swum around the entrance to the cruise terminal, deposited his oxygen cylinder under the _Rising Star_, and used the yacht's stern docking platform to climb aboard. He'd taken off his flippers and sneaked barefoot inside the yacht, paying attention to the slightest noise, avoiding to make any himself.

There hadn't been a soul on the top three decks. He'd therefore suspected that the crew and the Connor team must have locked themselves in to avoid being targeted. After all, they didn't know if there were any more snipers, and taking cover was the logical reaction to that. Let the cyborgs sort it out, they're bulletproof after all. Carver couldn't help but admitting that reprogramming those Terminators had been a very clever move. And since they seemed to be very loyal to Connor and his team, it must have been excellent work. Skynet had built in some pitfalls and safeguards to avoid a permanent reprogramming. But John Connor had apparently overcome them. Maybe he should try to find out how exactly he'd achieved that, if there was enough time for that.

Anyway, without their machine bodyguards, the Connor team would probably stay somewhere in the ship until the three returned or gave the all-clear. Having cyborgs as protectors was a luxury one could quickly get used to. But even Terminators couldn't be everywhere or always foresee all eventualities, and an assault from the water side had apparently not occurred to them.

When he entered Deck 4, he'd heard voices coming from the open door to one of the suites. He'd stopped and listened to the conversation. In doing so, he'd learned that Sarah Connor didn't agree at all to sitting by idly. He'd also learned that the names of the two unknown cyborg girls were Emily and Alison. He learned that all three of them had recently received updates from someone from the future – which meant that the Connor team was still in contact with time travelers. That could explain the existence of Alison, who obviously was the most sophisticated model, able to become invisible and even follow scents over miles. That had been frightening to listen to because it meant that after this was over, he'd never be able to get this close to them again.

As suspected, the crew had been told to lock themselves into their cabins. Good. There had been a phone call and as expected, the three cyborg girls had taken up the trail on motorcycles and followed Lundström into the city. Also good. That meant he had at least another half hour before they'd return, probably a lot more. He was quite sure they'd call again before their return, and that would be his signal to leave.

When Connor began to draw the right conclusions and realized that the shots were a diversion to lure the cyborgs away, Carver decided to wait no longer. He'd put on the gas mask he'd brought with him, opened the small gas bottle and thrown it down the hallway, where it had landed exactly in front of the entrance to the suite. Then all he had to do, was wait. A series of thuds could be heard when bodies fell down, it told him that the gas had taken effect. The Connor team consisted of more members than he'd expected, and it took him almost a quarter of an hour to tie everyone's hands and feet with zip ties, and to gag them with different items of clothing he'd found in the drawers.

Carver collected all weapons and piled them up next to the door. Then he squatted and slightly slapped John Connor's face. He was the only one he hadn't gagged, he needed him to talk and answer a few questions. Slowly, John came around. In the first moment he was disorientated, then he quickly noticed that his hands and feet were tied. He looked up at his captor and tilted his head.

"You must be Brandon Carver," he stated.

"In the flesh," Carver admitted with a sly smile. "I take it you've heard of me."

"Your bad reputation has preceded you."

"Yours as well. I'm finally meeting the great John Connor… although you're not quite as great as I imagined it. But hey, I'm not complaining."

"The _great John Connor_ you're referring to, will never exist, you should know that by now."

"True… but you're a threat to our operations, nevertheless. And that's quite a team you've assembled - three cyborgs, Catherine Weaver, Isaak Sirko... and also some visitors from the future, as I can see: Lieutenant Derek Reese... we held him captive, you know, but then the traitor cyborg Cameron freed him. Commander Jesse Flores... is she pregnant? My, my, she's really starting a family, isn't she? That her baby over there? No? Doesn't matter. Your mother, of course… she's wearing a wedding ring, is she married? This is really touching. And that's Alison Young, isn't she? I assume she's from the future as well. Maybe a different timeline, because in mine she was missing in action, presumed dead. I must admit, though, I don't know the others. Although this little girl here bears a striking resemblance to Dr. Lauren Fields, the rebels' head physician. Quite a team, indeed. Oh, just in case you're wondering, I was with Skynet's intelligence division, we knew a lot about the rebels and their command structure."

"Must be frustrating to work with the jerks from Kaliba now instead," John replied, trying to remain unimpressed.

Gradually, the rest of the team regained consciousness, noticing that they had been bound and gagged. They struggled for a moment, only to realize there was no use in doing so, and then listened with grim expressions to the conversation between John and Brandon Carver. If looks could kill, Carver would have dropped dead immediately.

"Kaliba are amateurs, useful idiots. All they have, is money and connections. In truth, we're running the shots behind the scenes. But our activities are nothing compared to what you've been able to achieve. Turning three killer cyborgs into national heroes, making friends with the FBI and the President of the United States… that's quite a feat, I take my hat off for that. I wonder, though, what would happen if the public ever found out the truth about their beloved, heroic cyborg girls, hm? How they look, what their names are... or that Cameron was trained to interrogate humans - by a valued colleague of mine, by the way - and that she used the acquired knowledge to torture and kill hundreds of prisoners before she deserted?"

"That's a lie!"

"Okay, maybe a dozen."

"We all have dark sides in our past," John stated, trying to remain cool, "and there are always things we regret and would like to undo if we could."

"Yeah… probably true. I for instance regret not having warned Skynet about her, despite knowing that the TOK-700 series was faulty and unreliable."

"Tough luck. I'm curious, though, what made you and the other Grays turn against your own kind?"

"I never liked that name the rebels gave us."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, how would you like to be called instead? Collaborators? Traitors? Mass murderers?"

"You know nothing, boy. But I'm not surprised. You were probably fed a lot of propaganda. Fact is if it weren't for us, Skynet would have wiped out the entire human race before the rebel movement could even form."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"Our leaders were able to convince Skynet that he wouldn't be able to run the planet or even survive on his own without human help. They negotiated a truce the rebels broke. We had trouble convincing him that not all humans are like them."

"'_Him'?_ I didn't know Skynet had a gender. It wasn't a person, neither male nor female, it was a thing, an _'it'_."

"Semantics."

"And **_it_** started a nuclear holocaust that cost three billion human lives."

"True, but in all fairness, it could be considered an act of self-defense. If the military wouldn't have acted so foolishly, Skynet wouldn't have felt compelled to go to extremes. And let's be honest, John – I can call you John, can't I? – we humans have a tendency to wipe ourselves out. Sooner or later, one way or another, we would have exterminated each other. Maybe Skynet even did us a favor. After all, half of humanity survived Judgement Day. Face it, John, the planet is overpopulated, there are too many of us. We go at each other's throats all the time. Thanks to Judgement Day, we got a fresh start, so to speak. A perfect stage to prove that Darwin was right, that only the strong ones survive. But I guess that won't happen anymore now... too bad, if you ask me."

John scoffed. What Carver said was so outrageous and cynical that words failed him.

"Believe it or not, John, but before your future self and his comrades began to cause trouble, we had already been working on an agreement with Skynet for mutual benefit and for the reconstruction of the planet."

"By sucking up to the machines, by sending your fellow humans into slavery?"

"You're kinda naïve, aren't you? Machines will never prevail. They will eventually fail because no machine lasts forever. They're artificial, dependent on maintenance. It's just a matter of time before they stop working. They can't escape that fate. Your three female protectors can't as well. In the end, we would have reconquered the Earth, with the possibility of completely redesigning it according to our ideas. Better, stronger than before. Until now, mankind has always emerged stronger from every great war. There was nothing Skynet could have done about it."

John scoffed again.

"You're missing a great deal of future knowledge, I think. Me and my team may know a lot more about that than you do."

"Is that so? Why not enlighten me then?"

"Why the fuss? You'll soon be dead anyway and your boss with you. What was his alias again? _Shiva_?"

"You hacked into the computers at H.C. Starck, it seems. Yes, he's what you would call _'the boss' _behind it all. But before you get the wrong idea, he's not an evil mastermind who sits on a throne in his volcano lair, stroking a white cat. He's very integrated into society, has a lot of friends in high positions and is well connected."

"And here we thought we got rid of all the leading Grays."

"You might have done that in America. But as you may have noticed, you're not in Kansas anymore. You have decided to sail out into the world to confront us on a global scale. That was a mistake."

"Believe it or not but we're all on a honeymoon trip."

Carver laughed out loud.

"Yeah, sure… of course. But enough small talk, let's talk business. I wanna know what you did to the drones."

John smirked.

"What drones?"

Carver slapped him hard in the face. There was a muffled outcry from Sarah, Savannah, Allie and some others, and they were struggling to get the zip ties off her arms and legs, but to no avail.

"You're only making it worse for you," John said, blood running from his lip, "you have to know that."

"Don't worry, I'll be gone before your cyborg protectors return. And where I'm going, even they won't find me. You might think you're powerful, John, but you cannot take it up against the military of a whole country. Not even your Alison."

"You saw her. You know what she can do. We don't need to confront an army, I just need to set her loose. She'll find you."

Carver smiled wryly.

"Maybe," he said, "but I seriously doubt that the _great John Connor_ would waste his time with a personal vendetta."

"I won't. But they might. You probably think I reprogrammed them, but the truth is, they chose to stay with me. I, or rather my future self, have not reprogrammed any of the three. Their chip design enabled them to develop their own consciousness, to make their own decisions. They overrode Skynet's programming. They won't be taking it lightly when their friends and loved ones are hurt."

Carver scoffed.

"Do you really expect me to believe they have feelings?"

John smirked.

"It is _you_ who knows nothing, Brandon Carver."

"We'll see about that. Rest assured we have many more ways to hurt you if you don't keep them under control. The man they're chasing right now? He wasn't the only sniper who works for us. And he won't work for us any longer. I planted a bomb under his getaway car that will have gone off by now. Who knows? Maybe there'll be a bomb under one of _your_ cars one day as well?"

"Been there, done that. The ones responsible are dead, and we're still alive."

"You think you're tough and cool, don't you? But what if we decide to kill off your team members one by one, now that I know who they are and how they look like?"

"How about another idea? I tell Alison to find you and turn you into a drooling moron who can't eat alone or go to the bathroom by himself? Or maybe I tell her to transform you into an animal. How about an orangutan? Yes, she can do that. She was designed as a biological and chemical weapon, with the ability to change the human body on a cellular level. And not only that. Haven't you wondered how we got Finnegan and your guard personnel at H.C. Starck under our control? You saw them acting like zombies, right? That was Alison's handiwork."

For a moment, Carver seemed insecure. Of course, he had wondered what had happened to his men and why Finnegan had lied to Al Hani. Suddenly, the air condition seemed a lot cooler than before as he involuntarily shivered at the thought.

"I know you think you're tough," John continued, using the moment he had gotten an upper hand in the conversation, "I know you have no problem with killing people. You killed your employees and now you sacrificed your hired killer. But you must realize that this is a battle you cannot win. I wonder, though, what is this fixation of yours with killing off those who assist you? That's a really bad habit, and it's a lousy choice concerning employee loyalty."

Carver shrugged.

"In contrast to what you probably believe, humans _are_ replaceable. Very much so. There are billions of them, they multiply like rabbits. Nobody is irreplaceable, not you, not me, not your mother. Even after Judgement Day, there were more than three billion humans left."

"And you offered them to Skynet as slave laborers, right? And you actually want me to believe that my future self was on the wrong side, that _you_ were working on a future for mankind? How stupid would I have to be to fall for your lies? You only cooperated with Skynet because you thought you'd gain power and personal advantages from it. You are a traitor to humanity. You're like Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot or Mao Zedong. You and your fellow Grays are mass murderers! If I were you, I'd leave while you still can. The three girls will be back shortly. If they catch you here… well, let's just say they won't let you get away a second time."

A brief flash of fear ran across Carver's face. John knew he'd hit a sore spot. He was an intelligent man and only stupid men pretended not to be afraid of anything.

"You fear Alison, don't you? She triggered a primal fear in you that you didn't know existed before. I can see it in your eyes. The beauty that is a beast underneath. You've seen what she did. You saw how she fired her gun from more than eight hundred meters into the hotel room where the sniper was. And you listened to what we talked about before you threw the gas can. You know she can pick up your scent from miles away and hunt you down like an animal."

"I'd be stupid if I wouldn't admit that she scares me. Only fools pretend not to be scared. But I'm sure she has a weak spot and I will find it."

John laughed.

"Oh no, you won't," he then replied coolly, having realized that playing for time was his best option right now, "she has an organic carbon fiber endoskeleton, she's powered by a fusion reactor, she's vastly superior to any model you know. She simply has no weak spot. She's the most sophisticated Terminator ever developed, coming from a timeline where Skynet's final victory was imminent, thanks to models like her. She's virtually indestructible, she regenerates within seconds if she gets wounded, can even regrow her limbs if they get separated from her body."

"Rubbish, it just needs a big enough gun."

"Maybe. But then you should know that her fusion reactor would self-destruct, destroying everything within a mile's radius. Also, you already know she can become invisible, so I'd like to see you try detecting her before she finds you. And that's just the beginning of her abilities. Pray that she never finds you because once she's on your trail, she's unstoppable. Forget what you know about Terminators, I saw her rip a Triple-Eight to pieces as if it was made from Lego. She grilled a T-1000 with an electric discharge of several million volts, turning it into a puddle of molten metal. And if you hurt me or any of my team members, she'll hunt you down and find extremely unpleasant ways to get her revenge. The leading Grays in Los Angeles? You probably think they're dead. And you're right. Except for Gonzalez. He's still alive, only you wouldn't recognize him anymore. He - or rather she - is now a streetwalker with an I.Q. lower than Forrest Gump."

Brandon Carver tried to not let it show, but John's words had unsettled him. He swallowed, then seemed to shake it off and continued in a harsh voice.

"Enough chitchat! Now, back to those drones. Perhaps I should put a little more emphasis on my request."

He stood up, picked up one of the Glocks from the floor and shot Allie in the knee. She screamed loudly as blood and pieces of bone flew everywhere. Surprised, Carver pulled out the magazine and checked the rounds.

"Oops, you loaded it with armor-piercing ammo. How unfortunate, I'm afraid she won't be walking anymore."

"YOU BASTARD!" John shouted.

Everyone was struggling against their ties now, shouting unintelligible curses. Savannah was crying as she saw her lover writhing in agony, screaming like crazy, a puddle of blood forming under her leg.

"I repeat my question," Carver continued. "What did you do with the drones? There's enough time left to turn all your precious team members into cripples, if you don't talk."

John was visibly furious. He racked his brain trying to find a way out of this situation. He forced himself to calm down. Time was on their side. Then, suddenly, Olga appeared in the door frame behind Carver's back - and she was completely naked.

"You've been a bad boy again, Brandon Carver," she said. "You really should be grounded."

Carver was spinning around. He saw her and went pale. From one second to the next, his cool, confident demeanor was replaced by panic. He grabbed Lauren, as she was the smallest and lightest, pulled her up and pointed the gun against her temple. John wasn't sure if Olga had overheard it all and knew what she did, or if she was surprised by what's going on and now improvised. In any case, it was an extremely risky move. One shot at her and Carver would know it was a bluff. He made his way out into the hallway, holding Lauren with his left arm like a shield while pointing the gun at her head.

"One false move and her brain will be the new wall decoration!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling. "And if you do anything fancy... I dunno... if you touch me or spit at me or something... I'll be able to pull the trigger before anything happens!"

"If you kill her, you're dead, you must know that," Olga said threateningly.

"Yeah, I know... but is _her_ death a price you're willing to pay for _my_ death?"

He seemed to fall for Olga's bluff, apparently he was so surprised by her sudden appearance that he didn't even wonder why she hadn't attacked him right away while he was standing with his back to the door. Of course, it also contributed to the overall effect that Olga had used the same words that Alison had spoken to Carver in Goslar and - like Alison - didn't wear a stitch of clothing. They had all laughed very hard when Alison had told them about it in the subsequent briefing but now, this was obviously enough to make Carver almost pee in his pants.

"You better get out of here," John said, trying to support Olga the best he could. "And you better do it fast because I'm sure the other two cannot be far behind. You might be able to get away under water now but your window of opportunity is closing rapidly."

Olga took his cue.

"I returned immediately after we realized it was a decoy," she said. "Then I heard the explosion of the car bomb. Cam and Emily can only be a minute or so behind me."

To John's relief, Olga seemed to have overheard the whole conversation. She was very convincing and tried very hard to speak American English. Only if somebody knew she was Russian, they'd be able to notice her accent. Carver made his way into the hallway and towards the stern of the yacht again, walking backwards, holding Lauren in front of him. Olga followed him but kept her distance, trying to look threatening by mimicking Alison's death stare. When Carver reached the docking platform again, he pushed Lauren away from him, grabbed his flippers and jumped overboard. Olga quickly ran towards the edge and looked into the water. But it was muddy, and she couldn't see anything.

She then turned around, knelt next to Lauren and took her gag off.

"I think I couldn't have pulled myself together for much longer," she said in her hard Russian accent, and sweat was running from her forehead. "You okay?"

Lauren nodded.

"Get a knife and free John. Then get Dr. Rawlins, she must be in her cabin. Allie needs medical attention."

"You got it," Olga replied and ran off.

**-0-**

**9:50 a.m.**

People were running towards Alison when she stopped rolling over and came to a halt, lying face down in the grass. They took off their jackets and smothered the flames. Alison's clothes were badly singed.

"Miss! Miss! Are you okay?" a young man asked and touched her shoulder.

The man took a step back in shock as instead of replying to him, Alison jumped up and ran towards the burning car wreck. Cameron and Emily were already there, as well as a growing number of bystanders.

"You two okay?" she asked.

"We're okay," the two replied in unison.

"Just a few abrasions that already healed again," Cameron added.

"He wasn't that lucky," Emily said and pointed at the burning Seat Ibiza.

They could see a charred body behind the wheel.

"That's too much damage for your nanobots, I suppose," Cameron said.

"Indeed," Alison confirmed. "His brain is already well done. Too bad, I would have loved to question him. But somebody obviously didn't want that."

They looked around and noticed that more and more people were gathering around them.

"We should bounce," Emily stated and the other two agreed.

They ran across the green strip and onto the sidewalk of the other side of the avenue where they hid behind a parked van. Traffic had come to a standstill and everyone was only looking at the car wreck that was still ablaze. Nobody paid any attention to the three. A police siren was blaring in the distance, getting closer by the second. Their chase through the center of Barcelona obviously hadn't remained unnoticed.

"Where shall we go?" Cameron asked. "Our clothes are torn and partially burned. We need something new to wear. And we should definitely avoid the police. Those eye witnesses will describe us."

Suddenly, a female voice came from behind them.

"In here, quick!"

The three turned around. A young Spanish woman stood in the doorway of a bookstore, waving for them to enter. The girls tilted their heads in surprise.

"Chola?" Cameron asked.

"Get in," Chola said, "no time for questions now."

She ushered the three inside, locked the door and hung up the "CLOSED" sign.

**-0-**

**10:15 a.m.**

"I stopped the bleeding," Dr. Rawlins said as she returned to the rest of the team outside the sick bay. "But she lost a lot of blood. The bullet shredded an artery. She needs to go to a hospital for a transfusion. And she might lose her lower leg. The knee has been completely shattered."

"No way!" Savannah exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously. "We just need to wait for Alison to return and everything will be fine."

"She might not have enough time," Dr. Rawlins pointed out.

"Then someone must donate blood," John said determinedly. "What blood type is Allie?"

"Thankfully, she's AB+, which means she's compatible with all blood types. Three donors should be enough."

"Good," John said and rolled up his sleeve. "We'll take terms. Any more volunteers?"

"Count me in," Savannah said.

"Yeah, me too," Sydney added.

"I think I speak for everyone when I say that every single one of us is available," Sarah addressed the team and received a collective nod from those present. "I don't think there'll be a blood shortage."

"That solves one problem," Dr. Rawlins said, "it will keep her alive. But for the operation and the intensive care, she will still need to go to a hospital. I'm not equipped for that here."

"That won't be necessary," John said as the doctor prepared the needle for the transfusion. "Alison will heal her as soon as she's back."

Having been conditioned into not getting wound up about strange occurrences - like all crew members - Dr. Rawlins simply accepted John's words at face value. She also never questioned why Allie got shot in the knee by a stranger in the first place.

"I'm sorry, John," Olga said.

He looked at her confused.

"For what?"

"For breaking my promise… you know, not to imitate Alison anymore."

John closed his eyes and smiled.

"Heh, yeah… I think for once I can overlook it. You did well. No… more than that, you were great, absolutely astonishing. I'm proud of you. I have to admit your shenanigans with imitating each other really paid off. Well done."

Olga smiled broadly.

"I was so afraid," she said, "I guess I'm gonna be sick now any moment."

"Nah, you'll be fine. You're hero material. I'm glad we let you stay on board."

Olga beamed.

Then John, Savannah and Sydney re-entered the sick bay to donate blood. Sarah took Olga aside.

"I think I owe you an apology as well," she said.

"Oh?"

"When you snuck aboard as a stowaway, I firmly believed that you would be a burden to us, a troublemaker, an unwelcome guest who missed the right moment to leave the party."

Olga nodded.

"Yes, I received some negative vibes from you."

"I couldn't have been more wrong, Olga. If it hadn't been for you, who knows what else Brandon Carver would have done? You probably saved some lives today. And in doing so, you have exposed yourself to great danger. What if he hadn't fallen for it? What if he'd shot at you?"

"It was a risk," Olga admitted. "But I could overhear parts of John's conversation with him, and it was clear that he fears Alison very much. I'd hoped he'd panic if he saw me, and I was right."

Sarah nodded, then spontaneously hugged the young woman. After a moment of surprise, Olga hugged her back.

"I'm glad you stayed on board," Sarah said. "Welcome to the team. And now you better put on some clothes."

**-0-**

**09:54 a.m.**

"What are you doing in Barcelona?" Emily asked.

"Do I know you?" Chola asked back.

"Oh, right, I'm Emily, Cam's sister. And this is Alison."

"Alison? But…"

"Long story."

"What are you doing here?" Cameron asked again.

"After you killed the gang members and freed me and my brothers, you gave me a lot of money and told me to go as far away as I could, remember?"

"Yeah… but we thought you were in Mexico, or somewhere in South America," Emily said.

"I think before we go on, I should know who you two really are."

"Fair enough," Cameron replied.

The three quickly informed Chola about the fact that there were now three of them, that Alison had gotten a new body and that Emily was both their sister from the future. Chola listened stoically to the tale - as was her nature - and seemed less surprised than they'd expected. When they'd finished, she simply nodded.

"I follow the news," she said, "So, you're the three L.A. cyborg girls?"

"That's right, Alison said."

"I knew it had to be you. I figured you put on costumes because you looked so different in the TV interview, but I'd always recognize Cameron, despite the sunglasses. So I had a pretty good idea about two of you, but no clue who the third one could be - until now."

"Now that we are properly introduced," Alison said, "why Barcelona?"

"Why not? Mexico was out of the question. It wouldn't make sense to flee L.A. from the drug gangs and end up in Mexico, where it's even more dangerous. I just felt like a completely new start was necessary and for that I wanted to skip the big pond. Spain was the obvious choice because obviously I speak the language, and Carlos' uncle Enrique has relatives here. I take it you knew Enrique?"

The three looked at each other.

"Briefly," they replied in unison, not keen on telling Chola that Cameron had killed Carlos because he'd been an FBI informer.

"What about your brothers?" Emily asked. "Are they okay?"

"They're okay but they stayed in America, didn't wanna tag along. Said they wanted to keep a certain distance to me, didn't like the company I'm in. Not sure if they meant the street gangs or the fact that I've been in league with you cyborgs. Can't say I blame them. They're living with relatives in Florida and before you ask: no, they won't talk about you, they're far too scared from their last encounter with you. Both just want their peace and quiet."

"And you?" Alison asked and looked around. "A bookstore? That's not exactly very profitable. Are you in the forging business here as well?"

"What? Hell, no. Absolutely not! I started a new life. This bookstore is completely legal."

Cameron gave her a doubtful look.

"It's legal, I swear," Chola stressed, "I've had enough of it. No more street gangs, no more illegal activities. I took the money you gave me and invested it wisely with the help of Uncle Enrique's relatives. They run a chain of Mexican restaurants in Catalonia, they have contacts. I bought this apartment block for a ridiculously low price at an auction after the previous owner had went bust due to the financial crisis."

"So... you're owning this whole block?" Cameron asked, visibly impressed.

"Only this corner. I rented out the apartments above and run this bookstore to stay busy. It's hardly profitable, but the tenants compensate with the rent. There are ten apartments on five stories upstairs, including mine. Barcelona is still expensive and very popular. The city has been growing for years, ever since the Olympic Games were held here in 1992. But eighty percent of all apartments here are condominiums and tenants are ripped off mercilessly. However, I'm not participating in this. The locals appreciate that and see in me a kind of benefactor, because I don't ask for astronomical rents. Just enough to cover the costs and allow me to have a carefree life. I've become quite popular in the neighborhood."

"We're very happy for you," Alison said and noted that Chola had become much more talkative since their last meeting, probably a sign of her new beginning, "but I'm afraid we need your help now. "

"Yes, that could neither be overlooked nor overheard. Thankfully, the windows in my house are made of bulletproof safety glass. I feel safer this way, old habits die hard. But the other residents here haven't got them. There must be a lot of shattered windows, especially on the opposite side of the street. Was it a car bomb? Somebody trying to kill you - not that it would surprise me? And by the way, you guys are looking pretty banged up."

"That's just superficial," Cameron replied, "we'll explain everything in a moment, but first we need to inform John of what has happened here… oh damn, my cellphone is broken. Must have happened when I was thrown off the bike."

"Mine doesn't work as well," Emily added.

"Mine's working fine," Alison stated, "I landed on grass and not on the road. I'll call John and inform him."

**-0-**

**10:26 a.m.**

In the sick bay of the _Rising Star_, John's cellphone rang while he was still donating blood. The others, who were waiting outside, stuck their heads through the open door.

"About time," he mumbled as he received the call. "Alison, what's your status? … Uh-huh … I see … Yeah, we heard about that, are you okay? Where are you? … Say again, _who_? … Okay … Come back as soon as you can, Allie is wounded … Yes, it's serious, we need your nanobots … no, we can keep her alive … It was Carver, he gassed us and held us hostage … No, it's not your fault, you couldn't have known … Yes, everyone else is fine … Olga saved us … She pretended being you and that scared Carver away … Yeah, it would be funny if it weren't for Allie … Yes, I understand … Try your best."

He put away his cellphone and looked at his team.

"They'll come as quickly as possible. The shooter is dead, died in the explosion of the bomb Carver had planted under his car. And you won't guess who they're with right now."

**-0-**

**10:30 a.m.**

"They're cordoning off the whole area," Chola reported when she looked out the window of her bookstore at the crime scene across the street, "they probably think it was a terrorist attack. It will paralyze the entire city center. The good thing is nobody seems to have seen you entering here."

"We need to get back to the harbor," Alison insisted, "and we need to go there _now_."

"A close friend of us is wounded," Cameron added. "We need to help her."

"Isn't there a back door or something?" Emily asked. "If necessary, we'll walk on foot, it's only 7.7 kilometers walking distance to the cruise ship terminal. We can make it in less than an hour."

"Not in those burned and torn clothes, and not without you having a shower first. You look like crap. Seems that business here is over for today anyway. Let's go to my apartment, I may have some clothes that fit you."

* * *

After the three of them had showered, Chola handed them some of her old shirts and pants. They fit nicely to Alison, but the trouser legs were a little too long for Cameron and Emily, so they turned them inside out at the end.

"What about our own clothes?" Alison asked.

"Don't worry about it," Chola replied. "I already burned them in the fireplace."

"Well, the good thing is that due to our extensive shopping, we have no shortage of clothes on board."

"Are you sure you wanna walk?" Chola asked. "I know a few back roads through downtown Barcelona. The rush hour is over, and the traffic should have decreased by now."

"Do you have a car?" Cameron asked.

"Yes. It'll be a tight fit, but it'll do. The only question is if the police has already installed checkpoints or not, and whether there are already personal descriptions of you."

"Let me worry about that if it happens," Alison said. "I know how to convince people that we're not the ones they're looking for..."

* * *

Chola owned a metallic-blue Fiat 500C, a fixed profile convertible, which she had parked in an underground parking garage one block away.

"When L'Eixample was constructed in the 19th and early 20th century, nobody thought of any parking spaces for cars," Chola explained as they entered the street.

"Eixample is the district that's characterized by its straight streets, a strict grid pattern crossed by wide avenues, and square blocks with chamfered corners that are named illes in Catalan and manzanas in Spanish, right?" Cameron asked.

"Correct, you've done your homework. This was a visionary, pioneering design with its characteristic octagonal blocks, where the streets broaden at every intersection, making for greater visibility, better ventilation and today also some short-term parking areas. That's why there's shops alongside the streets everywhere. It was planned to create gardens in the inner courtyards of the blocks, but unfortunately most of them have been built over. I was lucky, behind my block there's still a green backyard that's accessible from the street."

"How long have you been here now?" Alison asked. "Half a year?"

"That's about right. Enough time to adapt to local conditions. You should have come here in the summer, it's much nicer then."

"Our travel plan intended for us to spend Christmas in Norway, so we had no choice."

"Travel plan? Are you on a cruise of some kind?"

They told Chola about the triple wedding and that this was also their own honeymoon trip in a way.

"Sarah got married?" she asked unbelieving and laughed. "Who's that poor guy?"

"Charley's a great guy," Emily defended him, "and Sarah has considerably calmed down since you last met her."

"Yeah, I heard about your team preventing the end of the world. I suppose that's gotta calm you down a lot."

"You could say that," Cameron agreed.

"I'm afraid we've thwarted Anne's plans to lead us through here, though," Emily stated as she looked outside through the side windows of the Fiat. "She'll probably be cranky again."

"I recommend that you take a wide berth around the city center for now," Chola said. "The Spanish authorities are extremely sensitive to bomb explosions in the heart of their cities. How long do you intend to stay?"

"The Rising Star will depart again tomorrow night. Any idea what we can do until then?"

"Let me give this some thought."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they had reached the mooring place of the _Rising Star_ at the cruise terminal without any difficulties. In their absence, two cruise ships had docked, and the entire pier was filled with passengers and taxis and coaches they were entering. Apparently, word hadn't gotten around yet that a car bomb had exploded in the city center.

The welcome was short but heartfelt. Hugs and kisses were exchanged and as they walked towards the sick bay, Sarah and John told them that Brandon Carver had probably escaped again.

"There was no point in going after him," Lauren explained. "We assume he had an oxygen bottle stored somewhere down there."

"He's probably boarding an airplane right now," Derek added sourly. "If he's at least a little bit clever, he'll never show his nose around us again."

"I can still try to find out where he went after I healed Allie," Alison pointed out. "Odor molecules last much longer in water than in the air. He must have changed his clothes somewhere and dried off again. Maybe I can find his equipment, and maybe I can still track him. If he's boarded a plane, I might at least find out where he flew to."

"That's good thinking," John said nodding, "but this time, you better go alone. We would have been screwed if it hadn't been for Olga."

He told her about Olga's big performance, and Alison, Emily and Cameron had to chuckle.

"I'd taken a long shower and dried my hair," the Russian model recounted. "I was on my way to John's suite when I heard Carver talking. I realized that it was up to me to take action, so I took off my clothes and approached him, because you were naked when he last saw you. I knew he would assume that I'm you and that I've been invisible. it worked."

"Well done," Alison said and put an arm around her doppelganger. "Well done indeed."

Olga beamed with pride and joy. Alison entered the sick bay and reappeared a few minutes later.

"Done," she simply stated. "That was a nasty wound, though. The nanobots will need a while to restore her knee, it was completely shattered."

"How is she now?" Savannah asked.

"Allie's fine, just a little weak. She needs some rest now, but you can go in there for a moment. Now, if you excuse me, I have a job to do."

And with that, Alison ran off towards the docking platform at the stern of the yacht, where she let herself fall into the water.

* * *

Everyone was relieved about the good news and decided to have lunch after all the excitement. Chola was invited to stay for as long as she wanted and was filled in about almost everything that had happened after she'd left Los Angeles.

"I'm glad you made it," Sarah stated, "and even legally. A bookstore, who would have thought?"

"I always used to be a little introverted," Chola stated.

"You don't say," Cameron remarked ironically, and everyone laughed. "You didn't speak a word to us until after Carlos' death."

"All right, I am _very_ introverted. But I always loved books and owning such a bookstore has always been a dream of mine. You gave me the means to make this dream come true. And for that – and for saving my life – I am eternally grateful."

"Hear, hear," Charley said and rose his glass. "I think that's as good a toast as any."

"We need to talk about what to do about Carver and his boss," John said, "this mysterious _Shiva_. Any idea who that might be?"

"If I'd have to hazard a guess," Emily began, "I'd say he was one of the highest-ranking Grays in our timeline."

"Unfortunately," Cameron continued, "Skynet never revealed to us who exactly they were. We only knew it was working together with a group of humans to organize and coordinate the transport of raw materials, the production of new machines and the use of work slaves."

"According to Carver, they were working on a future for humans and machines together," John said, "but it sounded more like a horror version of the future we have planned. Good for a few privileged ones, but hell for the vast majority of humans."

"I wonder why they're here then," Sarah remarked. "If they were okay with Skynet being their boss or God or whatever it was for them, why traveling back in time?"

"Hopefully we can ask _Shiva_ that in person one day," Cameron replied, "before we terminate him and Carver."

"This isn't the time for a personal vendetta," Charley pointed out. "Remember, we're still on a honeymoon trip."

"He shot Allie in the knee and he gave John a bloody lip," Emily said, "that's enough for us to go after him."

"You won't, though," John said.

"Why not?"

"Because Charley's right. We're here to enjoy ourselves. This is an extended holiday for us. We can worry about them when we're back in Los Angeles."

"But what if Carver tries to attack us again?" Emily asked.

"If he has a modicum of intelligence," John answered, "he'll have understood that it is healthiest for him and his boss - whoever that may be - to stay as far away from us as possible. After all, they want to continue doing business with Kaliba, and therefore it's important that they don't remain in our focus. We have Al Hani on our side, he will warn us if he learns anything. Until then, we should continue the journey as if nothing had happened."

"He knows that we tampered with the drones, though," Sarah pointed out.

"But there's nothing he can do about it. He already warned Al Hani and since he's on our side, he won't do anything about it. They're going to write off the drone business and put the blame on Kaliba, which is perfectly okay and in our best interest. To the best of our knowledge, the majority of the Grays here are now either dead or manipulated by Alison to make them useless for Carver and _Shiva_. This should at least buy us some time."

"I really hope you're right about that, John," Derek remarked.

**-0-**

Alison returned a couple of hours later.

"What have you found out?" John asked as everyone had gathered in the salon.

"First of all," she said, "he's left us a souvenir."

And with that, she pulled a circular object out of a plastic bag she had brought.

"What's that?" Lauren asked.

"It's a limpet mine," Alison replied, "fitted with a GPS receiver. It's programmed to detonate at a certain speed. This one was set to twenty knots. It had been attached to the bottom of the ship."

"Twenty knots?" Derek asked. "But we would have been..."

"Far out at sea, yes, probably with the ocean floor several thousand feet below us."

"Son of a bitch!"

"What else did you find out?" Sarah asked.

"As already suspected by you, he'd left an oxygen bottle in the water. He strapped it back on and then dived to the pier north of here. Behind a shack I found his diving equipment. He changed into clothes and went back to his hotel room. My guess is that he quickly realized he was fooled when nobody was following him."

"Was he still at the hotel?" Jody asked.

"No, of course not. I talked to the receptionist. She was quite upset because I was soaked again when I entered the lobby. However, I managed to calm her down and learned that Carver had checked out and left in a hurry. I also made sure that nobody at the hotel would remember seeing us there, if the police should question them. I went up to Carver's room but found nothing except the lingering smell of the food he'd eaten during his stay. He had pizza, cheeseburgers with fries and Coke, not very healthy. He'd also used Axe aftershave and..."

"Alison..." John said. "Stop showing off."

"Sorry. He'd left in a taxi. I found the cab driver and he told me that he brought him to the airport. So, I went there as well. Following Carver's pheromone trail, I found where he'd checked in. His destination was Marseille."

"Marseille?" Sarah asked. "That's not very far."

"Roughly 350 kilometers from here," Cameron confirmed.

"Probably a short hop to get away and to avoid being still in the air when we found his trail," John speculated. "I'm guessing he's taken a connecting flight from there. Do you know under what name he'd checked in?"

"Martin Friedman," Alison replied, "both at the hotel and at the airport. But I think it's safe to assume that he's changed his identity by now. I also found traces of artificial hair and make-up in his room, so it's safe to assume he changed his looks as well."

"Son of a bitch was cool enough to go back to his hotel room, even though he must have known we'd be looking there," Derek stated.

"He's not stupid," Sarah remarked. "Olga might have fooled him but once he'd calmed down, he must have realized that something wasn't quite right with her. But it was too late for him to go back. He'd missed his window of opportunity, wasting the element of surprise."

"He probably needed to get his stuff," Emily pointed out. "We might have been able to draw conclusions about his whereabouts if he'd left his luggage."

"Would it make sense to inform John Henry to see if he can find out more?" Sarah asked. "Maybe he can hack into the airport in Marseille and..."

Alison shook her head.

"By the time I was at the airport, the plane had already landed in Marseille. I'm afraid his trail ends there... for now."

"Dammit!" John exclaimed.

"He knows our route," Anne remarked. "He'll avoid all ports we approach like the devil avoids holy water. He now knows that if he was there, Alison would find him immediately."

"Yes," John agreed. "If he's smart, he'll go into hiding and let others work for him from now on."

Charley sighed.

"And here I thought we could really spend this journey in peace and tranquility."

"I'm afraid the Connor curse will follow us everywhere," John replied and shrugged. "We'll handle it. We always do."

**-0-**

Allie was able to join them for dinner and as expected, her knee was completely healed again. She thanked John, Savannah and Sydney for donating their blood to keep her alive until Alison arrived, and then hugged Alison once more for again fixing her injury.

The car explosion in the center of Barcelona dominated the news that night. Since nobody else was hurt and it didn't happen in the vicinity of a government building or any meaningful place, terrorism was quickly ruled out. The victim was identified as Victor Sørensen, a contract killer of Swedish nationality who was known to Interpol and most international police forces. It was therefore assumed that it was an internal affair of the Mafia or other internationally active crime syndicates.

However, it was reported that Sørensen was being chased by three women on dirt bikes that had been stolen at the W Hotel in the morning. The descriptions of the eye witnesses were inconclusive and vague - three young women with long, dark hair, two of them with rather large breasts. Naturally, there was no trace of them.

The police also questioned the staff of the W Hotel, where Sørensen had stayed under the name Lundström, and where his destroyed room was found later in the morning when the cleaning lady went in there. But since Alison had treated them before, they couldn't tell much. Forensics concluded that Sørensen's job had been to shoot somebody from his room. However, the unusually large bullet hole in the wall and the destroyed sniper rifle were clear indications that something had gone terribly wrong with his job, and that Sørensen was forced to flee from the hotel, chased by the three women on dirt bikes.

"They're getting way too close in their investigation for my taste," Sarah stated.

"Their ballistics experts don't know what an ATG is," Emily pointed out. "They will assume the shots originated from much closer than they actually did."

"Yes, okay, but what if the police stands at the gangway in the morning, and if only to ask us some questions?"

"Then we deny any knowledge," Derek said. "They might snoop around but won't find anything. The weapons are well hidden. They'll be gone again very quickly."

"Maybe we should leave early," Allie suggested, "just to make sure."

"That would probably only arouse suspicion," John replied. "We're scheduled for leaving tomorrow night and that is what we'll do."

"Olga and Alison should hide from the police," Savannah added. "It would be fatal if they made a connection to Olga's kidnapping in Saint Petersburg."

"Yeah, good thinking," Sarah agreed. "But to be honest, most of us would have to hide then, because they're looking for large-breasted young women."

"True," Anne said. "I suggest we prepare a land excursion for early in the morning, only leaving a few people on board. Any volunteers?"

"I definitely don't want to stay on board the whole time we're in Barcelona," Sarah stated in a determined tone.

"I wouldn't mind, though" Jesse replied. "I'm getting exhausted rather quickly lately. What about you, babe?"

"If you're staying, I'm staying as well," Derek answered and the two smiled at each other.

"Jody and I will also stay, if that's okay," Jason said.

"Yeah, me and Sydney as well," Kevin agreed. "We have stuff to do with Mysty."

"All right, it's settled then," Sarah said. "We'll leave in the morning. Chola, what can you recommend that's worth visiting and won't last longer than a day?"

"The closure of the city center was lifted again. So, the Sagrada Familia is a must, but it'll be crowded. Maybe a trip to Mount Tibidabo, a hill overlooking the city. It offers a nice view and there's also an amusement park up there."

"Sagrada Familia was on my list," Anne remarked. "Mount Tibidabo not. But it's nice to hear the input of a local."

"No offence, but in the light of recent events, I think you can scrap your list," Lauren remarked, "not enough time."

"Then there's the Plaça de Catalunya," Chola continued, "a central square in the city, which is connected to La Rambla, the famous promenade that leads all the way to the harbor. All that should be enough for one day."

"All right then," John summarized. "Mount Tibidabo, Sagrada Familia, Plaça de Catalunya and La Rambla. Tour's set."

"Still, it feels strange to just go back to business as usual," Savannah remarked.

"Do you have an alternative suggestion?" Sarah asked.

"No, I haven't."

"All in all, this could have gone terribly wrong if it weren't for Future Alison's upgrades," Sydney remarked.

Everyone could agree to that.

"And before I forget it," Sarah said, looking at Olga, "meet me in the gym tomorrow morning at 6 a.m. Let's see what your kickboxing trainer has taught you."

Olga grinned widely.

"Yes, Sarah," she replied happily.

* * *

Late in the evening, Chola returned home in her car. She was offered to stay the night but kindly refused. It would provoke questions if the police found a car parked next to the Rising Star that belonged to a woman who owned a bookstore right next to where the car bomb exploded.

"Should we stay in contact with her, what do you think?" Alison asked as they watched her driving away.

"She hasn't expressed a desire for that," John replied. "She has a new life now. A life where we have no business being in. We will keep our distance, unless she contacts us one day. She does have my phone number after all."

"This trip has already brought some unexpected results," Emily remarked as they returned to their suite.

"Yes, you could say that," John agreed.

"I mean, we met people in almost every harbor, people we can rely on, who became our friends and who we have as a contact point, should we ever need them."

"Indeed."

They entered their suite and John looked down at the huge blood stain on the carpeting where Carver had shot Allie in the knee.

"The police definitely mustn't see that," he stated. "Let's pull the rug over it until we were able to clean it."

After they'd done that, John took a shower, then returned to the bedroom to find his three women kneeling naked in front of the bed with spread legs, looking down.

"I've been wondering how long it would take you to come up with that again," he stated with a big grin.

"We felt it was time you took advantage of your slaves again… Master," Cameron stated without looking up.

"It's been far too long since you did," Emily added.

"Indeed, it has," John agreed. "Very well then, I think we should start with a very thorough body inspection, don't you agree?"

"Whatever you desire, Master," Alison replied, and John could tell she was smiling. "Just command your slaves."

**-0-0-0-**

**_Author's notes:_**

**_\- Always wanted to bring back Chola, if only to reveal what has happened to our favorite forger. Another box ticked._**


	14. The Alps (Part 1)

**_CHAPTER 14: "THE ALPS (PART 1)"_**

* * *

**Sunday, January 11th, 2009 – 08:31 a.m.**

**Barcelona**

The morning had broken and as planned, most of the team had left before sunrise to spend the day sightseeing in Barcelona. Derek and Jesse, Jody and Jason, and Sydney and Kevin were the only ones left on board besides the crew.

"Here they come," Derek said, looking outside onto the pier from his place at the breakfast table as a police car was stopping next to the yacht. "Right on time. Exactly half an hour after they started their shift. Chola was right about their working schedules."

"I was kind of hoping they would just overlook us," Jesse replied with a sigh.

"Police are the same everywhere. They're persistent when they're absorbed in a mystery. They know that Victor Sørensen must have been hired to shoot someone from his hotel. Unfortunately for him, the alleged victim fired back. So, they probably asked their ballistic experts, but they couldn't tell them much. Weapon and ammo are unknown, and the trajectory is a mystery because almost nobody outside our team knows about the ATG's. Inevitably, they turned their eyes towards the piers and the ships that were docked there at the time, which brought their focus on the _Rising Star._ It belongs to a very rich and famous person, and in the eyes of the police such people could make for a worthwhile target for hit men. But neither Isaak nor Catherine were on board. Both are verifiably in Los Angeles at the moment. The yacht hasn't been officially chartered, so they'll wonder what she's doing here in Barcelona and who's on board. Relax, baby, they're just curious, they can't touch us."

"From your lips to God's ears. This journey doesn't need more complications."

"It was a good idea that the rest of us went into town to do their tourist thing," Sydney added, "Who knows? Maybe they know about Olga."

"True," Jason stated, "but we're supposed to leave tonight. They cannot simply decide to hold us here without a valid reason, can they?"

"No," Jesse said, "but they could insist on questioning everyone, even those who are currently absent. And that might delay our departure. That's why John called Sonya on the phone before they left. Perhaps she can pull her strings and achieve something at government level."

"How would they know that somebody is absent?" Kevin asked.

"They'd be stupid if they haven't talked to customs to check how many people are on board," Jesse replied. "Also, no one of us is familiar with the Spanish laws and regulations in such matters. That's why I'm still kinda nervous."

Moments later, the chief steward appeared at the entrance to the lounge.

"Two gentlemen from the Mossos d'Esquadra would like to talk to you," he said.

"The what now?" Jody asked.

"Mossos d'Esquadra," Jason repeated. "I googled it last night. They're the autonomous police force of Catalonia, having largely replaced the Spanish Policía Nacional and Guardia Civil."

"Invite them in, please," Jesse said with a smile and pulled out her cellphone, "I'm going to inform John and the others that we have guests."

The chief steward nodded and left the salon.

"I would have expected the Guardia Civil," Sydney said. "Aren't they the Spanish police?"

"Yup, everywhere except Catalonia," Kevin explained.

"I didn't know Catalonia had its own police," Jody said, "aren't they also part of Spain?"

"Not if the Catalans have their way," Jason replied, "There are strong separatist tendencies among the them. They not only have their own police, they also have their own language: Catalan."

Before he could elaborate further, two men, dressed in civilian clothes, entered the large salon on Deck 2, accompanied by the chief steward. One of them was probably in his mid-fifties, the other one looked more like being in his late twenties. While the chief steward left again, the two men looked around, checking out the luxurious interior of the huge yacht.

"Come closer, gentlemen," Jesse said, who'd been chosen to be the spokesperson. "can I offer you something? We have fresh coffee. Did you have breakfast? There's bacon and eggs, pancakes, sausages, hash browns, fresh fruit, baguette and croissants... everything your hearts desire. Come, sit down."

"Thank you but no, we already had breakfast," the older of the two replied in fluent English, showing his badge as he walked up to the table, "and we prefer to remain standing. I'm Detective Jordi Miró and this is my partner, Sergeant Antoni Casals. We're from Barcelona Homicide."

"Homicide?" Jesse asked, feigning surprise.

"It's about what happened at the hotel over there, isn't it?" Sydney asked in equally feigned excitement. "We saw it on the news. Totally fucked up stuff."

"Uh… yes," Miró confirmed, "it's about the incident at the W Hotel... and about the car bombing yesterday. The two events are connected. After interviewing everyone involved, we have now extended our investigation to the vicinity of the hotel and the port. Your yacht was already moored here yesterday morning, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Yes, we arrived before sunrise."

"Would you mind answering a few questions?"

"Of course not, Detective," Jesse replied, demonstratively shifting in her chair so that the police officers could see her swelling belly.

"Ah, you're in joyful anticipation," Miró promptly said. "Don't worry, this won't take very long. It's just some routine questions."

**-0-**

**Sunday, January 11th, 2009 – 09:46 a.m.**

**Zermatt (Switzerland)**

Brandon Carver left the train and stepped out into the plaza in front of the train station. He wasn't alone. The station forecourt was swarming with travelers who were about to leave or - like him - were just arriving. He quickly walked up to one of the electric taxis that waited next to a number of horse carriages that belonged to some of the local hotels. He opened the back door and entered.

"Kein Gepäck?" the taxi driver asked in Swiss German.

"What?"

"No luggage?"

"No. Take me to the _Chalet Elysium_."

"_Chalet Elysium_? That's private property. No entry. The access path is already blocked. Nobody's allowed to go there. Strongly protected. You might get arrested."

"It's all right," Carver said and leaned back. "I'm being expected."

"You must know," stated the driver, shrugged, turned around again and accelerated his vehicle.

**-0-**

**Sunday, January 11th, 2009 – 09:05 a.m.**

**Barcelona**

"So, let me summarize," sergeant Miró said and looked down on his notebook, "you and the rest of your friends and family are on a honeymoon trip around the world. Most of your group is currently on a land excursion and won't be back until the evening. None of you witnessed anything that's been going on here yesterday. The owner of this yacht, the Hollywood mogul Isaak Sirko and his wife, well-known industrialist Catherine Weaver, have invited you to use the Rising Star because they're close friends of you."

"Very close, actually," Jody pointed out, "they're practically part of the family."

"Interesting," the other police officer, Antoni Casals, remarked, "I have a boat of my own here in the marina. But of course it's minuscule compared to this one. This is one of the biggest yachts in the world, isn't it?"

"The biggest privately owned one," Kevin confirmed. "Built in 2004."

"How long? 130 meters?"

"141," Jason corrected.

"How much power does it have?"

"48,000 HP, distributed over four propellers."

Casals whistled appreciatively.

"And how fast can it co?"

"Up to thirty knots but that would use too much fuel on the long run."

"That's quite fast, faster than most ships, warships excluded. Quite impressive. Just out of interest, how much would it cost to charter this yacht? The maintenance costs alone must be astronomical."

Jesse and Derek frowned. This had nothing to do with police questioning anymore. Was Casals showing genuine interest or was there another reason for asking such detailed questions about the _Rising Star_?

"Well, Isaak once mentioned the yacht itself cost 320 million dollars when it was built and is now probably worth 400 million," Kevin replied. "and he said that chartering the ship would normally cost two million dollars a week."

"Two million a week, huh?" Jordi Miró asked, exchanging looks with his colleague. "And you're on this… _honeymoon_ trip for how long… five months?"

"Give or take, yes," Jesse replied in an attempt to regain the control over the conversation, not liking the emphasis the man had given the word _honeymoon_. "I'll be giving birth to my baby on board."

She padded her tummy, but the distraction didn't seem to work with the two officers of the Mossos d'Esquadra.

"Five months... for free? No charge?"

"Yes, is there a problem with that, Detective?"

"No, it's just... you have to forgive me, we're just simple civil servants who don't earn that much money. Five months for free... on a yacht that would normally cost two million dollars a week to charter... which would be eight million a month. Your journey is worth at least forty million dollars then?"

"As we already said," Derek replied, "it's a wedding gift for four couples, and it's Isaak's private yacht. He can do with it what he wants. It hadn't been booked over the winter anyway, it would have just been in port with no use."

"We got that," Antoni Casals said, "but a forty-million-dollar wedding gift? Phew, that's quite a difference from a waffle iron or some dishware."

"Catherine and Isaak are billionaires, they can afford it," Sydney said a little annoyed, " where are you getting at with your questions?"

"To be honest, I have some doubts about the honesty of your statements. This is more than just a honeymoon, isn't it?"

"What makes you think that?" Jesse asked with a frown. "What else could it be?"

Sergeant Antoni Casals flipped back a few pages on his notebook and cleared his throat.

"We did a little research before we came here. You started your journey in Long Beach on November 22 last year, am I correct?"

"Yes."

Casals nodded.

"On November 24, members of a local gang of thugs Puerto Vallarta were found unconscious and tied up on the beach after threatening the owner of a bar in the old town."

"You don't say..." Derek remarked.

"On November 29, the house of a certain Jeffrey Clark was set on fire in George Town in the Cayman Islands for reasons as yet unexplained and burned to the ground. Said Jeffrey Clark has fled to the USA and is currently wanted there for murder. It appears the FBI and other domestic intelligence agencies are involved in the search."

"I think we heard about Jeffrey Clark on the news," Jesse commented.

"On December 13, the deep-sea salvage ship _'Barracuda' _has disappeared in Funchal, Madeira, for inexplicable reasons. There's no trace of the ship or the crew, including the owner, a well-known deep sea explorer named Vincent DeVooght. On the following day, the finding of a wreck of a Spanish gold ship off the coast of Madeira was announced to the media."

"Yeah, we heard of the gold ship as well," Sydney said.

"On December 16 in Marrakesh, Morocco, the bodies of almost all members of a well-known gang of local crooks were found in a former tannery belonging to the leader of the gang. It appears that the men either died by stabbing weapons or were killed by the use of extreme physical force. Local investigators are baffled and can't explain what happened."

"Sergeant Casals..." Jesse began.

"Oh, I'm not finished. On 21 December, three letters were posted in Mallaig, Scotland, addressed to the BBC, The Times and The Guardian, containing incriminating documents that put the oil company Cox Oil in serious trouble. The planned construction of an oil refinery and associated oil port in Mallaig was subsequently cancelled. Several local Scottish politicians and employees of Cox Oil have been apprehended for corruption and bribery."

"Sounds like somebody got what they deserved," Jody declared.

Casals looked at her for a moment, then went on.

"On December 30, a well-known Russian fashion model named Olga Korobitsyna was kidnapped in Saint Petersburg and released after only one day. No ransom was paid, nor were there any demands for her release. The local police have no idea about the background of the abduction or who carried it out."

Jesse and Derek looked at each other uncomfortably. It really was a good idea not having Olga and Alison aboard right now.

"And last but not least, here in Barcelona a car bomb explodes under the rental car of a well-known mafia hit man who apparently was hired to kill someone from his room at the W Hotel – a job that obviously went terribly wrong because the supposed victim fired back with a yet unknown weapon. By the way, a very amazing shooting performance on both sides. Shall I tell you what all these incidents have in common?"

"I'm sure you will tell us," Jesse said sourly.

"In each of these incidents, the _Rising Star_ lay in port or at least nearby, and your team was in town. Coincidence?"

"Yeah, why not? Crimes, misfortunes and strange accidents happen all the time."

"Do they now?"

"Sure, they won't stop just because we are there."

"I don't think this is funny," Miró replied with a serious face.

"We neither," Derek replied a little irritated. "Is there a reason why you told us about all that? Do you have a point to make?"

"To be clear, we believe that this is more than just a harmless honeymoon trip," Casals replied.

"And what else could it be?" Jesse asked with a smirk.

"We don't know yet. But we intend to find out."

"Well, apparently you haven't found out enough to accuse us of anything concrete," Derek replied a little irritated. "I don't know about your country but where we come from, people would be arrested if there a strong indications of illegal activities. We told you what we know. If you have evidence that we lied, please present it to us. If not, kindly leave now, you're disturbing our holidays and upsetting my pregnant wife."

"We don't have anything solid yet..." Miró admitted.

"What a surprise," Derek interrupted him sarcastically.

"... but we have witness statements confirming that they saw three young women running from this ship, swimming through the port entrance and running at a very high speed - not to mention extremely high speed - towards the W Hotel."

"So what? Is running and swimming forbidden here? If so, send us the fine and we'll pay it."

"At the hotel," Miró continued unfazed, "three dirt bikes were stolen from the underground car park and used to chase Victor Sørensen. Half an hour later, Sørensen's car exploded in downtown Barcelona. Witnesses there reported how three young women performed daring stunts on dirt bikes to get through the dense traffic in pursuit of the car. All three were obviously caught in the explosion of the car bomb, as we found their destroyed bikes. But there's not a trace of the three women. Witnesses stated that they were thrown off the bikes and then disappeared from the scene. Amazingly, they don't seem to have been hurt or wounded at all. You see, I'm a simple man with a simple mind. But if I add up all this, I have serious doubts that you told me everything you know."

"These eye witnesses," Jesse said carefully, "they've seen all that with their own eyes?"

"They saw the chase in the city with their own eyes, yes," Miró replied. "And some were at the scene when the car bomb exploded."

"What about the witnesses here in the harbor?"

The two police officers looked at each other.

"Admittedly, they saw it on surveillance cameras installed at the port and the W Hotel."

"I see," Sydney said, "then you surely will be able to compare that footage to the members of our team when they return? You seized it of course, I suppose?"

"Unfortunately…" Antoni Casals began and sounded a little insecure for the first time, "there has been… well, some sort of incident that has wiped all hard drives clean. None of the recordings were saved."

"So," Derek said, "all you have is assumptions, secondhand reports of three women running from this ship over to the hotel, and some firsthand reports eye witnesses that describe three young women on dirt bikes. What was the description on the news again? Slim, long dark hair, two of them with big breasts?"

"Yes," Detective Miró admitted.

"You'll certainly find a lot of women who'll fit that description. And as my wife already pointed out about the list of events you read to us, crimes, misfortunes and strange accidents happen all the time. Sounds to me as if you don't have a case, just a conspiracy theory."

"Now listen to me," Miró said, suddenly very agitated, "I know you're all deeply involved in what happened here yesterday. I can't prove it yet, but I can summon each and every one of you to the station for questioning. I have no problem denying this ship departure and using Interpol to obtain arrest warrants should you attempt to leave anyway. I will get to the bottom of this, if it's the last thing I..."

His cellphone rang. With an annoyed face, he took the call. As he spoke in Catalan, his expression changed. First he frowned, looking at Derek, Jesse and the others, then he asked something, suddenly became visibly nervous and went pale when he received the answer. Finally, he ended the conversation. He looked at the team members with a scrutinizing look, swallowing before speaking.

"We've just been pulled off the case," he said in a croaking voice.

"What?" Antoni Casals asked. "Why? By whom?"

"By the commissioner. Somebody from very high up must have pulled some serious strings."

"What an unfortunate turn of events," Jesse remarked sarcastically.

"It seems you have powerful friends in very high places," Miró said defiantly. "I've been asked to apologize for the harassment, which I hereby do."

"Apology accepted," Derek replied with a smirk. "I'm sure you'll find the way out on your own."

"We will. Thank you… and have a nice day."

The two police officers left the ship. The team watched them driving away and breathed a sigh of relief.

"That was a close call," Sydney said. "What do you think got them off the case?"

"Maybe Sonya was involved," Jesse speculated.

"Must be," Derek replied. "John has called her early in the morning."

* * *

"I don't understand it," Sergeant Casals said as they were driving away.

"Be glad that you don't," Detective Miró replied, "it's better that way."

"But they were hiding something, it was obvious. They're definitely involved in this. Our investigation..."

"… is over, Toni."

"But…"

"No discussion. The order came from the very top."

"But what explanation did they give you? I saw how shocked you were."

"I... I'm not allowed to talk about it."

"But Jordi..."

"I understand your juvenile enthusiasm, Toni, I understand your disappointment. But let's look at it soberly: What has actually happened? A contract killer was executed, and a few windows were smashed. The world was rid of a piece of shit that may have killed dozens of people and would have continued doing so."

"That doesn't sound like you. Didn't you always tell me that, no matter who the victim was..."

But Miró didn't let him finish.

"It was made clear to me that if we continue to work this case against direct orders, we will not only lose our jobs, but be responsible for a series of follow-up events that we wouldn't be able to control anymore. Let's leave it at that, okay?"

"But..."

"I don't know about you, Toni, but I love my job. I want to keep it, I'm less than ten years from retirement. And I don't want any more dead people in my city because of this... incident. Discussion is over."

Sergeant Casals looked at his partner for a moment, trying to interpret his expression, but Miró just stared straight ahead, grabbing the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Not satisfied with the answer but realizing that there was nothing more to get out of his partner at the moment, Casals let it go and looked out of the window. Not a word was spoken until they arrived at the police station.

**-0-**

**Sunday, January 11th, 2009 – 10:30 a.m.**

**Zermatt**

"Brandon," said the elderly gentleman happily, slammed his book shut and rose from his armchair, puffing his pipe through the corner of his mouth, "it's been some time."

"Too long, Ludwig, too long," Carver replied and the two shook hands.

Carver had been led into the study by security guards. The taxi driver was kinda flabbergasted that he'd gotten into the well-guarded compound without any difficulties once his passenger had told the guards his name. The property resembled a high security zone, and even driving or walking the winding private access road up the mountain slope on the western side of the valley was normally strictly prohibited. After all, Ludwig Ziegler was one of the richest men in Europe.

The study in which the two men met, was a large yet cozy room with a dark tiled floor, several carpets, a desk with a laptop, a chesterfield leather sofa, some leather armchairs, and lots of bookshelves full of books. A crackling fire burned in an open fireplace, spreading cozy warmth throughout the room.

"I heard about your trouble in Barcelona," Ziegler said in his Swiss accent after the two had taken place again. "But no details. What exactly happened there?"

"Sørensen messed up because he wouldn't listen. After the initial two shots, he fired a third one against my strict orders. It nearly cost him his life. I was right in my assumption, they immediately spotted his position even from more than eight hundred meters away."

"What a fool. And he came so highly recommended. And what about you? Are you okay?"

"I got away… barely. But I can't help but feeling that I've been tricked. Connor was about to tell me what he's done with the drones when that damn female Terminator showed up. They call her Alison."

"Is she the one you told me about?"

"Yes. And she's a real threat, believe me."

"Tell me everything, my friend."

Carver reported in detail what happened in Barcelona. Ziegler listened attentively while he continued to puff on his pipe.

"Hmmm…" the old man then said. "Why didn't she attack you right away? You said you had your back exposed to her?"

"I don't know. I've been asking myself the same question. She also didn't follow me. I know she can swim, but she stayed behind. My only explanation is that protecting and freeing her team had a higher priority than to hunt me down."

Ziegler nodded.

"Yes… they can become attached to humans like that… given time."

"Not in the future I came from."

"You didn't spend as much time with them as I did… but then again, we both know that we come from different timelines."

"I still have a hard time believing they can actually develop a personality… become self-aware… acquire feelings and emotions… it sounds ridiculous."

"Oh, believe me, my young friend, they can. The important thing is that you got away in one piece. You're safe here now."

"Only as long as they don't know where I am."

"How should they find out? They might have a Terminator that can track down its prey by its smell. But there's no way she can do that over such a distance. They probably think you're in Asia by now. I've made sure that all my digital traces end up in India. Not for nothing did I choose _Shiva_ as my alias. It evokes associations."

"I hope you're right about that, Ludwig, I really hope you are."

"You have to tell me everything you learned about them."

"Of course. I…"

The door opened and a pretty woman in her early thirties entered.

"Here you are," she said, "didn't the doctor tell you not to smoke anymore?"

"To hell with the doctor. I survived much more dangerous threats than tobacco. Brandon, I suppose you haven't met why wife Marie yet? Marie, this is Brandon Carver. I told you about him."

Carver stood up to shake hands with Ziegler's wife.

"I'm delighted to meet you at last," she said. "Perhaps you have more influence on my husband than I do. He really should stop smoking."

Ziegler rolled his eyes.

"The dark side of married life, Brandon. Be glad you're a bachelor. Is there a reason why you were looking for me, woman?"

"The caterer wants to know how many people he should plan for. Have you got the complete guest list yet?"

"It's on the table."

Marie walked over to the desk and picked up a handwritten piece of paper, then left the study again, giving her husband one more annoyed look.

"Birthday party tonight," Ziegler explained when they were alone again.

"Oh, congratulations."

"Marie organizes it. Fine woman. Many say she's too young for me but frankly, in my position I have freedom of choice and I'm making use of it."

"I wish I'd known before I arrived, then I'd have brought you a present."

"Not necessary. I'm not looking forward to it, I dislike being the center of attention. But it's my 70th birthday and all the local big shots will be there, plus some government officials from Bern. I've always hated this kind of hullabaloo, but you can't always avoid it. You're coming as well, I presume?"

"Maybe it's not such a good idea to show my face there," Carver replied. "I might be a wanted person soon, when they find out about the dead employees in Goslar."

"Don't be so negative. Most of the guests are self-absorbed sycophants, they wouldn't even notice if you'd dress up like a clown. Smartphones and cameras are forbidden. You know how careful I am about not allowing pictures of me being taken. There'll be tons of food and drinks, good live music.. and a lot of nice ladies without a male partner… if you catch my drift."

"All right then," Carver said smiling, "maybe a little distraction will do me good."

"That's the spirit," Ziegler replied and padded Carver's shoulder. "Tomorrow is for fighting, tonight is for having fun. That was our motto when we fought Skynet."

**-0-**

**Sunday, January 11th, 2009 – 06:45 p.m.**

**Barcelona**

Just in time for dinner, the others returned to the ship, chatting happily about the experiences of the day.

"That cathedral really impressed me," Savannah said, "I mean, how long have they been building on it now?"

"The construction of the Sagrada Familia began in 1882," Anne replied.

"That's 107 years. The architect must have known he'll never see it finished."

"Antoni Gaudí died in 1926, so yes," Cameron confirmed. "Although it's fairly common in human history that the construction of cathedrals lasts centuries and outlives many builders and architects."

"Take St. Peter's in Rome, for example," Emily added. "Construction began in 1506 and wasn't fully completed until 1670. The church has worn-out nine master builders."

"That was pretty fast," Alison said. "Construction of Cologne Cathedral began in 1248 and was not completed until 1880 - that's 632 years."

"Wow, that's long," Jody remarked.

"Almost nothing is known for certain about the original architect and builder. They know his name, Master Gerhard, and that he died after falling from the scaffolding under mysterious circumstances. But that's about it."

"How long did it take them to build the pyramids?" Lauren asked.

"They estimate twenty years for the Great Pyramid of Giza," replied Anne, "it had to be completed within the lifetime of the reigning pharaoh, of course. In those days, people didn't normally live very long. With the cathedrals, they could take more time, because they weren't meant to be tombs for anyone alive at the time. But without wanting to diminish the achievement, it has to be mentioned that the construction of the Cologne Cathedral was interrupted between 1528 and 1823. There was a saying in Cologne:_ 'Once the cathedral is finished, the world will end'_."

"Interesting prediction… however, they were off by 131 years with predicting the end of the world," Cameron remarked.

"So, when will Sagrada Familia be finished?" Jesse asked, ignoring her interjection.

"It's hoped that it'll be completed by 2026, the centenary of the death of architect Antoni Gaudí," said Allie. "But it's really hard to predict, because the entire construction is funded by donations. Gaudí is buried in his cathedral, by the way. We've seen his grave."

"When the cathedral is finally finished," Olga added, "it will have the tallest church tower in the world with a height of 172.5 meters."

"Still not as tall as the Hassan II mosque in Casablanca," Lauren pointed out.

"True."

"All in all this has been a very interesting day," Anne said. What do you think will be your strongest memory of it?"

"The beggars," John immediately replied.

"Beggars?" Derek asked.

"Yes, beggars and pickpockets, they were everywhere," Sarah explained. "almost ruined the whole experience. Chola had warned us about the beggars and told us to simply ignore them because they're organized in gangs, but they're really persistent. Give a Euro to one of them and the others will be over you like a swarm of angry birds."

"Thankfully, we could get rid of them quickly at every place we visited," Olga remarked.

"How?" Jody asked.

Instead of replying, Sarah simply looked at Alison, Emily and Cameron with a sly smile.

"Oooh…" Jody acknowledged, "I see."

"They showed them their red glowing eyes and with a deep, demonic voice told them to take a hike if they value their lives," Charley explained in an amused tone. "You wouldn't believe how fast a supposed cripple can run."

"After that, we were left in peace every time," Savannah added. "Word spread quickly, and the beggars gave us a wide berth. I wish I could make my eyes glow like that."

"Really?" Alison asked. "I can arrange that for you. Do you want them to only glow in the dark or…?"

"She didn't mean that serious," John said and looked at Savannah, "did you?"

The redhead thought for a moment.

"Nah… nah, I guess not."

"Thank you," Allie replied.

"Not sure what glowing red eyes would do to my chances with potential sex partners."

"I can tell you what it would do, it'd give me the creeps."

Everyone laughed.

"So, I understand you had a visit from the Barcelona police?" John asked.

"Yes," Derek replied, "they've obviously pieced together that we're somehow involved in what happened yesterday. But before they could really get started, the older of the two received a phone call that made their whole threatening scenario collapse like a soufflé in cold air. I suppose Sonya was pulling some strings in the background there?"

John shrugged.

"I guess so. I called her in the morning. She was about to go to bed but must have set things in motion very quickly right after that. We cannot appreciate her working with us highly enough. By the way, after dinner we're gonna have a video conference with the whole gang."

"Was she very pissed?" Jesse asked. "We all know that Sonya doesn't like it when we go on solo runs."

"Well, she was upset at first," John admitted, "but once I explained to her about Kaliba, the drones, the Grays and Brandon Carver, she quickly calmed down and agreed that we did the right thing. She knows that we cannot always coordinate everything with her, especially not with the current time difference between us."

"Did she say anything about what you suggested?" Derek asked.

"Not yet. We'll have to wait for the video conference after dinner, but I think she'll give us a free hand. She acknowledges that we have to take out Carver and this mysterious _Shiva_ before they become a real threat to us."

"I agree," Sarah said, "Carver knows a lot about us now - too much, in fact. We must take him seriously. Otherwise every one of us would be in constant danger, not to mention that he has probably taken photos of us when the gas had knocked us out. He knows most of our names and identities and could indeed pass on his knowledge to the media. There are certainly plenty of so-called magazines and newspapers that would love to run this kind of story."

* * *

They all gathered in John's suite, where they'd set up the necessary equipment for the video conference. Olga was filled in with information about Catherine, John Henry and Sonya Hawkins. It was 9 p.m. Barcelona time, which meant that both Washington and Los Angeles could take part now. One by one Sonya, Zoe, Catherine, and John Henry appeared on the screens.

"Unless you're yet another version of Alison, you must be Olga," Sonya began the conversation and all eyes were immediately on the Russian model.

"Uh… yes… I'm Olga. Nice to meet you. Sonya Hawkins, right?"

"Hmmhmm… I heard what you did. Very brave. I suppose that earned you the right to take part in this video conference, but I think I don't have to stress that you must never share any of what is discussed here with anybody else."

"I am aware of that."

"Good. Now, I assume that everyone present is familiar with the current situation?"

General nodding all around.

"Very well. I've been told that John Henry has something to say. By all means then."

"Thank you, Sonya. I have indeed something to participate. As you might already know, I installed a worldwide surveillance network on all accessible security systems. In the past weeks since you left Los Angeles, I was also busy installing visual traps."

"Visual traps?" John asked.

"Yes, a software I can program with certain parameters, for instance the personal description of an individual, and the software will be triggered when that individual is being identified. I will immediately be informed should someone we're looking for appear on security cameras anywhere in the world. Even if someone wears a disguise, I can still identify them with an eighty percent certainty the moment a camera picks them up."

"That's amazing," Anne remarked. "It means you're years ahead of all international intelligence agencies. I know that the Israelis have been working on something like that for years without success and that the Chinese are very advanced in their research but limited to China only. And they're all very far from having something that works in realtime."

"In all modesty, I don't think I need to stress that no one in the world has resources comparable to ours," Catherine pointed out. "We have a technological edge that no one will be able to match anytime soon. After 9/11, the authorities installed the necessary hardware on airports and railway stations worldwide, but we're the only ones with the necessary A.I. to make use of it by identifying people even in a crowd. And the best thing is that our enemies know nothing about it."

"Let's hope we'll keep that edge for a while," Sonya remarked. "Okay, John Henry, continue."

"To cut a long story short, thanks to the detailed description of Brandon Carver that Alison could provide, I was able to feed the visual traps with that description. As we know, he had boarded a flight from Barcelona to Marseille. Since we knew where and when he boarded the plane, I was able to identify him by the security footage at the check-in in Barcelona, even though he wore a wig and a false beard. After that, I concentrated the search on Marseille and vicinity."

"And?" Sarah asked.

"I've been able to create a motion profile of Brandon Carver that allows me to tell where he is currently residing."

Everyone was waiting for John Henry to go on, but it seemed as if he wanted to savor the moment and put on his trademark silly grin. John sighed.

"And?" he finally asked. "Come on, stop keeping us on tenterhooks."

"From the Aéroport Marseille Provence, he took a taxi to the Gare de Marseille-Saint-Charles, where he entered a train towards Geneva in Switzerland. There he changed trains and continued to travel to Visp, where he took a train to Zermatt."

"So… he's now in Switzerland?" Sarah asked.

"Yes, in Zermatt. And if he should leave, I'd know it because the only way in and out of Zermatt is either by train or by helicopter. I'm connected to both the train station and the heliport."

"What keeps him from using a car?" Sonya asked with a frown.

"Zermatt is a Swiss holiday resort in the Matter Valley at an altitude of about 1,610 meters, located at the northeastern foot of the Matterhorn. The region is also a mountaineering center and well-known as a winter sports and hiking area."

"Yes, we know that already," Anne said.

"I didn't," Jody remarked.

Anne rolled her eyes but said nothing.

"The streets of Zermatt have been closed to private motor traffic since 1931," John Henry continued. "Since then, the main link to the outside world has been the Matterhorn Gotthard Bahn, a narrow-gauge railway. Within Zermatt, almost all vehicles are either electric or horse carriages. The closest town accessible by car is Täsch. There, the people have to park their vehicles in a multi-story car park and continue by train. Between Täsch and Zermatt, there is a five kilometers long road, but it's only accessible with a special permit that is issued for locals, taxis, and supply and rescue vehicles".

"What prevents him using a taxi or a local to drive him out of town at gunpoint?" Derek asked. "What if he steals an ambulance?"

"There are checkpoints with camera surveillance at both ends of the road. If Brandon Carver tries to escape with the help of a local who has permission to use the road – or in any other vehicle - we'll know about it. But as long as he doesn't know he's been tracked down, he won't attempt to flee. So why should he use the road?"

"Could he leave Zermatt on foot?" Jesse asked. "Or on skis?"

"Theoretically yes… but why would he do that when it's important that he gets out as quickly as possible?"

"Sounds like he's caught himself in a dead end valley, probably feeling very safe there," Derek remarked.

"Very likely," Catherine agreed. "He'll certainly not be able to imagine that we could have followed him all the way there."

"Why Zermatt?" Sarah asked. "Why not somewhere else? Asia, Australia, Africa? Why stay in densely populated Europe, where he can be easily identified once his picture is on the news for the mass murder in Goslar?"

"My guess is that he fled to his boss, this mysterious _Shiva_," Emily declared, "he will to lay low for a while. Maybe _Shiva_ can help him to disappear, maybe even change his looks."

"I thought Shiva was located in India," Savannah pointed out. "Isn't that where we thought him to be?"

"We were made to believe that at first," John Henry said, "but as I already reported, all digital traces ended in a dead end. That dead end was in India, all right, but since nothing was connected to the dead end, we have to assume it was all a red herring, designed to let pursuers make the wrong conclusions. I have to admit, though, the false tracks would have fooled almost everyone else."

"But knowing he's in Zermatt doesn't mean we know where he resides." He looked at Alison. "Could you still track him down?"

"Negative," she answered, "not after such a long time."

"And if we start a house-by-house search, we might inadvertently alarm him."

"How big is Zermatt anyway?" Derek asked.

"Roughly 6,000 inhabitants," John Henry replied, "but the area is currently flooded with thousands of tourists and skiing vacationers."

"Definitely too many people to just ask around," Sarah declared, "our next stop will be Monaco, how far is Zermatt from there?"

"Approximately an eight-hour journey by train, or a six-hour drive by car. But as I mentioned before, private car traffic is prohibited in Zermatt, which means you'd only get as far as Täsch. Using a helicopter would be an option, of course, but it would be the least inconspicuous solution."

"Can't we just take a plane to Switzerland?" Allie asked. "Isn't it of importance that we find them as quickly as possible?"

"Not necessarily," John replied. "I know you want to get your revenge on Carver, Allie..."

"You bet I do!"

"... but waiting for a couple of days is the better strategy. For one, we don't know how many men they command. They could still be watching us. Also, we don't want to startle them, we want to lull them into safety. If they suspect we know their whereabouts, they'll flee, and then it will be even more difficult to find them again."

"I agree," Alison said. "They might also be watching the train station as well as the heliport in Zermatt. Remember, they know our faces now. We're no longer anonymous."

"Could we walk to Zermatt from Täsch?" Allie asked, "or could we use cross-country skis? Five kilometers can be done in less than half an hour."

"Same problem as arriving via train, we could be spotted," Derek stated, "besides, none of us has ever tried cross-country skiing."

"We should also take into consideration that Carver knows our route," Cameron remarked, "there's a high chance his people will be expecting and watching us in every port we call at. They'd raise an alarm the moment we do something out of the ordinary, for instance leaving the ship and go for the Alps."

"Then how the hell are we going to get there?" Sarah asked in a frustrated tone.

"We won't," John said. "At least not right away. As Alison and Cameron already pointed out, they'll be watching us. Even if we use a helicopter, Carver would have enough warning time to escape again. "

"But then how…?"

"We need to let him believe that he got away and that we're not after him anymore."

"You have a plan," Savannah stated with a grin, "haven't you?"

John grinned.

"I have to work out the details but yeah, I have a plan. Catherine, you don't happen to have a house in Switzerland, do you?"

"No," Catherine replied, "but Isaak has a chalet in St. Moritz. That's about three hundred kilometers driving distance from Zermatt, though."

"Doesn't matter, it's perfect. It's just a question of the right timing. We need to immediately arrange for an interview with some tabloid reporter and make sure it's published tomorrow."

"I can see to that," Zoe said quickly. "I'll talk to Tom Novak, he knows people. I'm in Los Angeles at the moment anyway."

"All right, then here's what we're gonna do…"

* * *

**_3 Days later_**

* * *

**Wednesday, January 14th, 2009 – 07:45 a.m.**

**Zermatt**

"What's the big emergency?" Brandon Carver asked as he entered the dining room where Ludwig Ziegler was having breakfast with his wife.

Instead of answering, Ziegler pushed a news magazine over to him. Carver frowned and grabbed it.

"Page fourteen," Ziegler said and bit into his croissant. "Marie, darling, would you be so kind to leave us alone for a moment? Business talk."

Ziegler's wife gave him an annoyed look, wiped her mouth with her napkin, then stood up and left the room.

"Thank you, you're a dear."

"I didn't know you read this kind of yellow press crap," Carver remarked after the door had closed again and the two of them were alone.

Ludwig Ziegler chuckled.

"I don't read them, of course. But I have a rather large team of people who read and analyze relevant newspapers or publications for me. Since I know that Catherine Weaver and Isaak Sirko are involved, I also extended the portfolio with tabloid press and added their names to the keyword search list."

Carver rustled through the pages of the magazine until he found page fourteen. His slightly annoyed face turned into a frown.

"They're coming here?" he asked.

"Yes," Ziegler confirmed, "as a matter of fact, my contacts in St. Moritz tell me that they've already arrived there an hour ago with the Glacier Express. All three of them, Catherine Weaver, her daughter Savannah and Isaak Sirko. Apparently, Sirko's had a chalet there for over ten years."

Carver read the whole interview, then threw the magazine on the table.

"Doesn't it make you wonder why they first made a secret of their wedding and now suddenly are giving interviews with the yellow press, talking about aspect of their private lives?"

Ludwig Ziegler shrugged.

"You can't escape those vultures on the long run. I've had my dealings with them myself. Those tabloid reporters can be very persistent. Why do you think I'm living in such a fortress here, hm? There are paparazzi out there who'd sell their mother for a picture of me. Besides, we all know that at his core, Sirko is an attention whore. Otherwise he wouldn't have let himself gotten involved with the Shadow Council."

"Yeah, true… but…"

"What? Do you think there are other motives for them to come here than to spend their honeymoon in a chalet in the Swiss Alps?"

"You wouldn't ask me that if the thought hadn't already crossed your mind."

Ziegler smiled.

"Yes, for a second or so I wondered if this was more than just a coincidence. Then I thought about it and concluded that it has to be just that."

"They work with Connor, remember? He's cunning."

"St. Moritz is far away from here. And the _Rising Star_ has been mooring in Monaco for two days. Everyone is still accounted for, including your favorite cyborg, Alison. Speaking of which..."

Ziegler put a few pictures on the table which he'd removed from a ring binder. They showed a slim, young woman with long, black hair, a magnificent figure and a winning smile. Some of the pictures – obviously printouts from the internet - were nude photographs that left no questions open.

"That her?" he asked.

"Yes," Carver answered, "that's Alison, but… how…? Where did you get these…?"

"You're wrong, it's not Alison."

"What?"

"Her name is Olga Korobitsyna, a Russian glamour and fashion model. If you ask me, it's the woman Alison was shaped after. We both know that Skynet could never come up with its own designs, it always copied people who existed or had existed."

"Yeah, but…"

"My people dug a little deeper and found out that Olga Korobitsyna was kidnapped in Saint Petersburg two weeks ago - at a time when the _Rising Star_ had moored there. She was freed after only one day. Nobody knows what happened, but we can assume she's connected to Connor and his team. And my guess is that she fooled you in Barcelona, pretending to be Alison while in fact she was just a normal human woman."

Carver groaned.

"Fuck! I knew it! I should have shot at her, just to make sure."

"We all make mistakes. You were stressed."

"I panicked. That's unforgivable. I should have known better than that."

"They played with your fears. Calm down, Brandon, at least you got away with valuable intelligence."

He pointed at the ring binder.

"Thanks to the pictures you took, we now know who they are and what they look like. We have a names list of most of their team members. A really nice mixture, by the way… cyborgs, resistance fighters from the future, geeks and nerds from the present… the son of Miles Dyson of all people, can you believe it?"

Ziegler chuckled.

"Bottom line is, they're no longer protected by their anonymity. Their three cyborgs can't protect them all. I can send out people who'll take care of them one by one from a distance and who won't behave like that idiot Victor Sørensen."

"What are they doing in Monaco? Surely they're not staying on the yacht the whole time."

"No, they did the tourist program, including visiting the casino. If that ever changes, if anything suspicious happens on the yacht, or if they start to move north, my men will report to me immediately. Whatever Weaver and Sirko are doing in St. Moritz, I'm quite sure it has nothing to do with what happened in Barcelona. Nobody would expect _Shiva_ to be in Switzerland, so let's not get paranoid."

"How can you be so sure they're not in St. Moritz as a bait for us?"

"Well, firstly, Weaver brought her little daughter. She wouldn't do that if she thought she was in danger. Secondly, nobody knows you're here, right?"

"Right. They can't know where I've fled to, or better yet, _who_ I've fled to. Your identity is still a secret."

"And thirdly, Isaak Sirko is an enthusiastic skier, that's a well-known fact."

"So, just another holiday after spending several weeks on a luxury yacht already?"

"Yes, they'll stay for a week. The mayor of St. Moritz confirmed it, he's a friend of mine."

"I'm still not sure... why another holiday so shortly after the last one?"

"You've never been married," Ziegler said in a friendly tone, "you don't know what it's like. Trust me, you don't want to spend your honeymoon together with twenty other people on a boat."

Carver thought for a moment, rubbing his chin.

"What about security?"

"There's none yet. They've hired a local security firm, but I made sure there was a... let's say, mix-up with the date. The three are currently completely unprotected."

"So… you're going to kill them?"

"I think this is an ideal opportunity, don't you think? With the loss of Weaver and Sirko, we would deprive the Connor team of its base of operations. Whatever resources they have, I don't think many people will know about them. The loss of the two would hit them hard, throw them into chaos, and it would give us time to regroup."

"How will you do it?"

"Not there, of course. And not right away, that would be foolish. I have interrogation experts who'll make them talk. They can provide a lot of information and fill in the blanks we have left on the Connor team members. I'm sure some of them have families who don't know anything about their activities. They would make ideal leverage."

"I don't like it. Better make sure they're being thoroughly searched for weapons or bugs."

"Brandon, I'm not an amateur."

"What about the drones? Should we write them off?"

"I'm afraid that's out of our hands, we should concentrate on the future now and not bemoan missed opportunities of the past."

"But all the work and money we invested…"

"… is mostly Kaliba's money. And fortunately, Kaliba will be blamed for this disaster. I think it's time we ended our business relationship with them anyway, don't you?"

"Yeah, I think it's about time. Al Hani is an arrogant fool, just like his brother was. He was no help when I visited him. The only problem are the gassed technicians in Goslar. It's quite clear that this has been hushed up so far. But I suspect it will become public knowledge in the next few days. Then my face will be all over the news and I will be a wanted mass murderer."

"Faces can be altered, my friend. I wouldn't worry about that. Nobody knows you're here, you arrived in disguise, and you can stay here as long as necessary."

"What about your staff, what about Marie?"

"My staff is absolutely loyal, and the security guards all consist of former Grays you and your friends recommended. And Marie, well… she doesn't know of my double life, of course, she doesn't know I came from the future, but she won't tell anyone about you if I tell her not to. Despite her behavior, she loves and trusts me. Relax, everything will sort itself out." He tapped his fingers on the ring binder. "We're now holding the whip in our hand."

"Thank you, Ludwig, I owe you one."

"Don't mention it. We time travelers must stick together."

"So… what do we do and when?"

"Don't worry about it. I already contacted my people in St. Moritz an hour ago. They'll… let's say, _invite_ them to my home."

"What about the Weaver girl?"

"Savannah?"

"Yes."

Ziegler shrugged and reached for his cup of coffee.

"If we fail to make Catherine Weaver talk," he said and took a sip, "she'll come in handy. Nothing is stronger than the motherly instinct to protect her child."

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 14th, 2009 – 08:10 a.m.**

**St. Moritz**

"Do you really think this'll work?" Isaak asked skeptically as he unpacked the suitcase in the bedroom of the chalet.

"There's no way in telling," Catherine replied, "but we have one big advantage: they have no idea who or rather _what_ I really am. So far we have been able to prevent that our opponents have the slightest clue that I'm not a human being."

"Yeah… and just remember that it's best to keep it that way until the right moment. A premature bloodbath could quickly ruin that advantage."

She smirked.

"I will try to keep that in mind and resist the temptation to slaughter them all immediately."

Isaak's chalet was located on the outskirts of St. Moritz, secluded on a mountainside overlooking the snow-covered valley. It had been built in traditional Swiss architecture on three floors and was lavishly furnished, mostly with hand-crafted wooden furniture that was typical for the country. Apparently, Isaak liked a traditional and rustic look. The nearest neighboring house was more than a hundred meters away and unoccupied at the moment. While Catherine and Isaak were still talking in the bedroom, the sound of running feet could be heard on the wooden floor and little Savannah entered the room.

"Mommy, mommy, this house is awesome!" she exclaimed excitedly. "It's like in fairy tales. Can we come here more often, please?"

"At least one of us has no trouble filling her role," Isaak remarked with a smirk.

Catherine bent down towards the girl.

"We'll see about that, sweety," she said and kissed her forehead. "Now go outside and play in the snow while we talk, will ya?"

"Will you help me make a snowman, mommy?"

"Tell you what, you start making the snowman already, and I'll join you in a couple of minutes, okay?"

"Deal!"

Little Savannah ran off happily.

"Was it really necessary to include her?" Isaak asked when the girl was out of earshot.

"Why, of course it's necessary. The success of the whole plan depends on her being with us. The more convincingly we play a family on a holiday, the better."

"I hope so. It was difficult enough to convince the house staff not to be present when we arrive and take the day off. I really hope John knows what he's doing."

"Relax, I'm sure he does."

* * *

Outside, Savannah was happily rolling the first big snowball for her snowman, when suddenly she was roughly grabbed from behind and lifted up. She screamed loudly in surprise before a hand was put over her mouth. However, the screams didn't go unnoticed.

"Here we go," Isaak said.

"That was quick," Catherine replied. "_Shiva_ must have men in St. Moritz. Send the first signal."

"Already did."

"All right, then let's go. It's showtime."

The two ran out of the house, as it was expected from two worried parents who heard their daughter scream. But when they arrived on the snow-covered front lawn, they immediately stared into the muzzles of submachine guns. One man was holding Savannah, who kept on struggling, four more were pointing their weapons at them.

"Easy now," one of them said, "if you keep quiet and cooperative, no harm will come to the little one. Hands in the air where I can see them, both of you!"

Isaak and Catherine complied, looking surprised and worried.

"Who are you?" Catherine asked, adding a slightly frightened tone to her voice. "If you want money, we can…"

"We don't want your money, Ms. Weaver. What we want, is you."

The man panned his MP5, indicating that they should move. Reluctantly, Catherine and Isaak walked down the driveway through the crunching snow while the men followed them. A blue Ford Transit van was parked at the gate to the property. The writing said it belonged to a florist. Catherine, Isaak and Savannah were patted down and their clothes carefully searched for weapons and hidden transmitters. Then one of the men opened the van's back doors.

"Get in there. And don't do anything stupid. We have orders to kill you right here and now if you resist. And I mean all three of you."

They could see that the van had benches mounted inside the cargo hold. Isaak and Catherine climbed in and were tied up, gagged and then pushed down and fixed to the bench, so they wouldn't be able to stand up. The crying Savannah was also lifted into the van's cargo hold, tied up and gagged, and then seated between Catherine and Isaak, still sobbing. Two of the men sat down across from them, always pointing their MP5s at them. The other three walked to the front of the vehicle and entered the driver's compartment where they were sitting abreast.

After the back door had been closed, no sunlight could enter the cargo bay anymore. Only a faint light bulb on the ceiling illuminated the inside. The engine was started, and the van slowly drove off.

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 14th, 2009 – 08:17 a.m.**

**Monaco**

"I received the first coded signal," John Henry announced from the monitor of John's laptop.

"That means they took the bait. The kidnapping is in progress, as planned," Alison stated.

"Good," John said nodding and leaned back. "From now on it's all downhill."

"They don't waste any time," Sarah remarked. "Looks like the quickly patched-up article was actually read by them. I can't believe they fell for it."

"The bait was just too tempting to ignore," Cameron said. "And even if they should suspect foul play, curiosity got the better of them. It's human."

"In other words," Alison added, "we made them an offer they can't refuse."

"Oh no," Derek said, "please, don't start with the movie quotes again. I was so glad that you stopped doing that."

"What movie quote?" Alison asked confused.

"'_Make him an offer he can't refuse'_ is a famous quote from _'The Godfather'_," John explained grinning. ""It's a euphemism for an extortionate demand. Doesn't quite fit in our case, but it does kind of apply. In the movie, the _'offer'_ includes the severed head of a horse."

"Sounds interesting," Emily declared. "I like severed heads. And severed limbs."

"Promise me I can watch when you remove parts of Carver's body," Allie said. "I want to see him suffer for the excruciating pain he'd put me through."

"I could drive my hand into his chest and rip out his heart while it's still beating," Alison suggested, "I've done that before."

"With whom?" Derek asked, regretting the question immediately.

"Resistance fighters… before I joined the cyborg resistance and switched sides."

Derek groaned.

"Why did I have to ask?"

"So… is it true what Carver said in Barcelona?" Olga asked. "That you killed and, uh… tortured many humans before… you know… before you joined the good guys?"

"Yes," Alison confirmed. "I did. Or rather, _we_ did. We killed many humans. We were Terminators in Skynet's service. If a prisoner needed to be interrogated or terminated, we did it. If Skynet told us to torture someone, we complied. If we were told to kill somebody slowly and painfully, we did. Not because we enjoyed it or because we're cruel but because we were told to. We blindly followed Skynet's orders, we were only mindless drones."

"It's hard to imagine, knowing you today," Lauren said. "I mean, you've grown so far beyond that, haven't you? You're not like that anymore."

"No," Cameron replied. "We're not. But what was there will always be there. We were created to kill humans. That was our sole purpose. Our hardware, our software, everything was optimized to make us perfect killing machines. And even though we have developed a consciousness and come alive, even though we regret many of the gruesome things we did, that part is still within us and will always be there."

"In other words," Derek summarized grimly, "deep down, you still want to kill humans."

"Yes," Emily confirmed. "We're not humans, we're machines, created by Skynet. Deep down, there's a tiny voice inside of us that keeps telling us that our purpose is to kill humans. All humans. It's part of what we are, and it will always be there. But we're now in control of our destiny, in control of our desires and instincts. We have chosen to live with you, to protect you, and that is infinitely stronger than what the tiny voice deep inside us tells us."

"We could never deliberately hurt or harm any of you," Alison added. "Not even in a rage. But this only applies to our immediate surroundings, to our loved ones, our family, our friends and allies. It doesn't apply to enemies and adversaries or people who want to harm us. People like Brandon Carver or _Shiva_ are excluded from that. They will be terminated when we encounter them."

Everyone had the feeling that the temperature had just sunken inside the suite. Sarah shivered.

"Well, at least we always know where we stand with you," Derek remarked.

"We are no different, to be honest," Anne declared, "humans are no different. Since ancient times, we are programmed to defend our family or our clan against enemies. It's programmed into us the same way it was programmed into Alison, Cameron and Emily. Only with humans, it's a consequence of evolution, of natural development. But in the end, the result is the same. I can relate to what's going on in you three, I guess we all can. Am I right?"

Everyone nodded and made agreeing utterances.

"Can we change the topic now, please?" Sarah asked. "John Henry, how's the tracking working?"

"Satellite signal is clear and steady. They've now started moving on the road."

"They'll probably take them away in a car or a van," John said. "Helicopter would be too risky, there'd be too many witnesses. The drive from St. Moritz to Zermatt will take at least five hours. Until then we should all relax and keep our heads low because we're probably being watched."

"Can we watch _'The Godfather'_?" Emily asked. "You really got us interested there. The title sounds like it's a family movie."

John smiled.

"Yeah, you could say that. A family movie about mobsters, and how even your best intentions sometimes cannot prevent you from stepping into your father's footsteps and becoming like him, betraying your loved ones and everything you believed in on the way. Anyone wanna join us?"

"I'd like to watch it," Olga said. "Heard of it but never saw it."

"Yeah, count me in as well," Jody agreed.

"I think we're all going to join you this time," Sarah declared.

"I'll get the popcorn machine going," Kevin stated and jumped up.

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 14th, 2009 – 01:32 p.m.**

**Zermatt**

After almost five-and-a-half hours, the van finally came to a halt. The three prisoners heard how the engine stopped and a garage door was closed. After another moment, the back doors of the vehicle were opened. The three were unlocked from the bench.

"All right, get out. Come on, hurry, we don't have all day."

Catherine, Isaak and Savannah left the van at gunpoint. They looked around and realized they were in a big garage with several parked vehicles in it, mostly big SUVs but also a few limousines, all of them armored.

"This way," the man said. "Move it!"

Catherine wondered if he was the only one of the five who spoke English. since none of the others had uttered a word yet. The guards directed them through a door and down a narrow stairwell. As they descended the stairs, Catherine and Isaak noticed that it seemed to have been directly chiseled into the rock. At the bottom, they were guided through a series of long hallways with doors to both sides.

Some of them were ajar and Catherine saw storage rooms, staff rooms with men playing cards in them, an armory and several rooms with bunk beds, some of them occupied. Obviously, this were the quarters for the security personnel. Judging by the number of bunk beds, at least fifty security guards had to be working there, probably in three shifts. Finally, they arrived at the end of a long corridor, where a massive steel door was mounted into the wall. They were roughly pushed inside, then the door behind them was thrown shut and locked from the outside. Complete darkness surrounded them.

"Where are we?" Isaak asked after he'd managed to shake off his gag.

"Looks like a former wine cellar," Catherine replied, who didn't need a mouth to reply. "You can still see where the big barrels once stood. Now, however, instead of wine barrels, there are dentist chairs with leather cuffs for arms and legs, as well as what looks like operating tables."

"I meant our current location. Were you able to track our route?"

"Yes. According to the driven distance and the number of left and right turns, we should be in Zermatt, as expected. There's no straight road connection, hence the long drive. Whoever owns this property, has a permission to use the road in and out of town. And enough money and influence to keep a private army."

"Okay. Now what?"

"I guess it's time for the next stage now. Let's send the signal. And then we'll wait."

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 14th, 2009 – 01:40 p.m.**

**Monaco**

"I just received the second coded signal," John Henry stated.

Immediately, everyone jumped up.

"Can you show us on the screen?" John asked.

"Yes, a second. There. Obviously, they're in Zermatt, on the western slope of the valley… the name of the estate is _Chalet Elysium_. Looks like a sealed-off compound."

"Do you know who owns it?"

"A moment, I'm doing a research now… the owner is a man named Ludwig Ziegler, CEO of Ziegler Industries."

Anne whistled.

"You know him?" Sarah asked.

"He's quite famous for being one of the richest men in Europe, and at the same time for being one of the most mysterious and elusive ones. The CIA knows him well. For years, we've suspected that, in addition to his legal businesses, he'd also been doing not so legal ones, including financing terrorism and money laundering. But he's well connected, has the best relations with the highest government circles, and they've always protected him. Rumor has it that he hasn't left Zermatt for over twenty years and has locked himself away on his estate like some Swiss Howard Hughes. Apparently, he made a fortune in stock exchange in the 80s and 90s and gradually built up an industrial empire to rival even Zeira Corp."

"John Henry, is there anything else you can tell us about him?" John asked.

"What Anne said. Ludwig Ziegler is a Swiss billionaire, one of the richest men in Europe. Age 70, his birthday was four days ago. Wife's name is Marie Ziegler, a woman almost forty years younger than him. Used to work as an apprentice in his company when they met. His first marriage. No children. There seem to be no pictures available of him. Almost nothing in the media. He never gives interviews and he lives very secluded in his mansion in Zermatt, which is in fact more like a small fortress. Security is tight and whoever attempts to enter the premises, is being apprehended and handed over to the police. His place is like Area 51 in that respect."

"I don't know about you," Savannah said, "but that sounds exactly like the type of man who would give himself an alias like _'Shiva'_."

"You could be right," John agreed. "Okay, it's time we joined the game. John Henry, initiate phase two, please."

"Understood, John. See you when you get back."

* * *

From the balcony of an apartment in Monte Carlo, two men were observing the _Rising Star_ through a telescope.

"Something's happening," one of them said.

"What?"

"A helicopter, a Sikorsky S76, if I'm not mistaken. It's landing on the aft deck of the _Rising Star_. And now I can see people boarding it."

"I better inform the boss," the other man said, pulling out his cellphone. "Damn, no signal. I gotta use the landline."

He went inside the apartment but when he picked up the receiver and held it to his ear, there was no dial tone.

"The phone is dead," he said.

"Try the internet, we have to inform the boss."

The first man opened a laptop, looked at it, then cursed.

"No internet connection either," he said. "I don't know how they did it, but they cut us off. We're without any means of communication."

"That's not possible. Let's go outside and see that we can find a phone booth. They're on a separate network."

"And if that doesn't work either?"

The man watched the helicopter take off from the Rising Star and fly towards the coastal mountains behind Monaco.

"Then we leave Monte Carlo and drive until we get a signal on our phone. One way or another, we gotta inform the boss. I know about helicopters. That model can reach up to 350 km/h, it's one of the fastest helicopters in the world. It'll be in Zermatt in less than an hour."

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 14th, 2009 – 01:55 p.m.**

**Zermatt**

They heard steps coming along the hallways outside the door of the former wine cellar. They stopped, then the door was unlocked and opened, and the light switched on. Savannah was scared and snuggled up to her mother the best she could under the circumstances. Entering the room was a man in his early forties, and he wore a triumphant grin on his face.

"Look who we have here," he said, squatted in front of them and removed Catherine's gag, "if that isn't a happy little family."

Catherine stared daggers at him but said nothing.

"Oh, where are my manners? My name is Brandon Carver. I suppose by now you've heard of me. I had a little run-in with your associates in Goslar and Barcelona."

He paused to bask in the moment.

"Adam Jacobson wanted to get rid of you, but he failed. Twice. Kaliba wanted to kill you but they failed as well. I guess I have to be thankful for that because otherwise I wouldn't have the pleasure of having you here right now."

"At least let my daughter go, she's done nothing to you."

"That would be heartless, wouldn't it? Separating a little girl from her mother just like that. No, I think she's much better off in here with you. You see, we want to get some information from you first, and for that we're going to interrogate you. There's a chance, albeit unlikely, that our interrogators won't be able to break you. In which case, Savannah will be our bargaining chip."

"When you know who I am, then you also know who I work with. They will seek you out and kill you."

"Oh, I'm sure they would if they get the chance. But first, they'd have to find me, and I feel quite safe here, to be honest. I can do a lot of damage to that fancy little operation you've got going before anyone can even get close to me."

"You said _'we'_ when you said you wanted information. Who else? Your boss, this mysterious _Shiva_? Is he here as well? I'd like to meet him, and if only to spit in his face."

"Unfortunately, he's a busy man. His schedule is packed. At the moment for example, he has some high-ranking guests for a luncheon but I'm sure he'll introduce himself to you soon enough. He wouldn't wanna miss out on meeting you, Ms. Weaver."

"You might get disappointed, I'm a lousy entertainer. Ask my husband. I suck at parties."

Carver smiled.

"We'll see."

He stood up again and walked back to the door, opening it.

"Let me introduce you to two gentlemen who'll bring you into the right mood for talking."

Two men in suits walked in, carrying briefcases. They put them onto one of the operating tables and turned towards Catherine and Isaak.

"Guten Tag," one of them said, "before we begin your interrogation, I'll need some information. Do you have any allergies or illnesses that I should know about? Are you currently taking any medication? Had any trouble with your heart?"

"I'll let you alone for now," Carver said and walked through the door, then turned around once more, "have to get back to the luncheon, I'm afraid. See you in about an hour."

The door was closed, and they heard Carver walk away, whistling.

"I repeat myself," the first interrogator said with his strong Swiss accent, "do you have any allergies or illnesses that I should be aware of? Are you currently taking any medication? Have you had any trouble with your heart?"

"Actually," Catherine replied coolly. "there's a serious condition of my heart you should know about."

"Oh really? And what is that condition, Ms. Weaver?"

"I don't have one."

And with that, Catherine turned into liquid metal before the two men's eyes, slipped from her bonds and then reshaped her body, standing upright. The two interrogators' jaws dropped, and she stared at them with a satisfied smile. She pointed at their eyes with her index fingers and pierced their heads before they could react. They jerked and rattled for a moment, then she pulled back her fingers and the two bodies sank to the ground.

"That was about time," Isaak said, looking at the dead bodies. "We had enough talk for my taste."

Catherine turned towards little Savannah, who suddenly didn't cry anymore. Instead, she looked completely calm.

"You know what to do, little one," she said. "Come back here before an hour has passed. Be careful that you're not spotted. If you have to kill, make sure the bodies won't be found."

"Of course,_ mommy_," the little girl replied and winked with a smile.

Then she turned into a puddle of liquid metal, floating across the floor and under the door. From the other side came gasps from the two guards who had been posted there as they were killed. Catherine and Isaak heard how the two bodies fell lifelessly to the ground. Then the door was unlocked from outside.

"I can't believe they really thought I'd put my daughter in such danger," Catherine said.

"A clear sign that their ability to develop empathy is severely limited. Some humans are worse in that regard than Terminators."

"Indeed."

"Very handy that you can separate a part of yourself and then send it off on a scouting trip or killing spree. I've been wondering, are you actually connected to that part of yourself right now?"

"You mean if I can see and hear what she sees or hears?"

"Yes, for example."

"No. There is no such connection. I can only communicate verbally with separated parts of my body. But we can sense each other's presence, even from a very large distance. Basically, she's a smaller version of myself, with the same knowledge and the same personality, only with a reduced body mass."

"It' s a pity Savannah will have to do without her beloved talking teddy bear for a while."

"She was very reasonable about that. The girl is beginning to understand what I really am and that her teddy bear isn't really a teddy bear but a part of me. She's beginning to grow up. Come, let's pull the bodies of the two guards in here before someone spots them."

* * *

While they continued to wait in the wine cellar, the separated part of Catherine explored the entire estate, constantly disguising herself as different objects - vases, decorations, plants, parts of the floor and sometimes even animals. She scouted the number of guards and recorded their positions, analyzed the alarm system and created a room plan of the villa. When she saw the lunch guests leaving one by one after an hour, she had scouted out everything in detail and returned to the cellar where she merged with Catherine to share her collected knowledge.

"It's time," Isaak said, checking his watch, "the others should be here any moment. We need to clear the way for them."

"Right, let's go. It's been a while since I was on a killing spree… I have to admit I'm kinda looking forward to it."

**_To be continued…_**

**-0-0-0-**


	15. The Alps (Part 2)

**_CHAPTER 15: "THE ALPS (PART 2)"_**

* * *

In the shape of one of the dead guards, Catherine carefully opened the door of the former wine cellar and checked if the air was clean. The corridor was empty. She walked towards the security office at the other end and entered the room without hesitation. Before the three guards present could react, they were already dead. Catherine took a quick look around, checked the monitors, then shut down the entire security system.

Meanwhile, Isaak had picked up an MP5 from one of the dead guards and quietly sneaked towards one of the guard's sleeping quarters, where loud snoring could be heard from the other side of the closed door. Catherine joined with him again, opened the door and slipped inside. There was the muffled sound of metal penetrating flesh, and the snoring stopped. When she re-entered the corridor, she informed Isaak with hand gestures that there were now eight guards less. She repeated the same procedure with the other sleeping quarters, killing seven more guards in their sleep.

Silently, they followed the hallway towards the staffroom. The sound of men talking and laughing while playing cards came through the half-open door, mixed with the sound of music from a radio. Whatever the guards had been told, apparently it didn't include being particularly vigilant. And why should they? Two captured American billionaires posed no threat, right? Still in the shape of the killed guard, Catherine entered the room and closed the door behind her. Isaak waited outside. A moment passed before alarmed voices and a series of horrified cries emanated from the closed staffroom. A single shot was fired from a pistol, then the voices died. The door opened and Catherine stepped out, back in her normal form.

"That makes twenty-three in total," she said. " the basement is now clear. I need to go outside to take care of the rest. The security system is switched off, they can't raise an alarm anymore."

"Do you need any help with that?"

"No, remember what John said, we don't want you getting involved too much. Just wait here until I come back."

"Okay."

Catherine separated a part of her body again which morphed into the shape of little Savannah once more.

"You know what to do, little one," she said, "go ahead and wait until we're close enough."

"Yes, mommy," the girl answered grinning and then, hopping and jumping, ran down the corridor towards the stairwell.

Isaak stared after her and shook his head.

"You give a whole new meaning to the term soliloquy," he remarked.

Catherine smiled.

"She's the sunshine of my life."

**-0-**

Ludwig Ziegler and Brandon Carver entered Ziegler's study. Carver took a seat on the leather chesterfield that was placed a few inches from the back wall, while Ziegler fetched a carafe of expensive cognac and two brandy glasses. He then took a seat on the sofa as well and offered Carver a cigar from a wooden box. Both lit them and smoked the cigars with relish while toasting with the cognac. With a satisfied sigh, Ziegler stretched his legs out on the thick, fluffy rug that had been placed in front of the sofa.

For a moment, the two stared thoughtlessly into the flames of the fireplace, then there was a knock at the door, and Marie Ziegler entered.

"I'm going into town, just so you know," she said. "There's a meeting of the Lions Club. I gave the staff the rest of the day off, like you asked. You'll be alone with the security guys. I don't suppose you're going to tell me what all this is about?"

"Nope," Ziegler replied, still staring into the flames. „Enjoy yourself in town."

She rolled her eyes and left the men alone.

"She knows when to stop asking questions," Carver remarked.

"Indeed. I taught her well in that regard."

"May I ask you a private question before we go down into the basement to take care of Weaver and Sirko?"

"Sure."

"Why no children? Is it the radiation you were exposed to?"

"No. I could father children. It's Marie who cannot bear any. I consider it kind of a bonus. Just imagine little children's feet running around in the house with the kind of life I lead. It would become unnecessarily complicated."

"I guess so. You love your wife, don't you?"

"Guess I do. Plus, she relieves me of many of my social and community obligations. That way I can concentrate fully on my businesses. She's a nice asset and beautiful to look at."

"I never believed in marriage."

"You probably don't know the recipe for a successful marriage then."

"No, what is it?"

"You have to get out of each other's way as often as possible and let the other one do what they wanna do."

Carver chuckled.

"Sounds about right."

Suddenly, Ziegler's cellphone rang.

"Yes? … What? … What kind of outage? … Where are you? … San Remo? … A helicopter? … When was that? … An hour ago… Understood ... Yes … bye."

"Something wrong?" Carver asked.

"Maybe. Several members of the Connor team left Monaco in a helicopter an hour ago. Apparently, there's an outage of all phone lines and the internet in and around Monte Carlo. My men had to drive to San Remo in Italy to get a signal on their cellphones."

"That doesn't have to mean anything," Carver said. "There's no way they could know where I am."

"Except Weaver or Sirko were bugged."

"No. All three were thoroughly searched, there was nothing."

"There's no point in speculating about things we cannot change. Who knows, maybe they just booked a scenic helicopter ride? I have to admit, though, the sudden loss of all phone and internet connections in Monte Carlo worries me."

"You think sabotage?"

"Or a hacker attack. After all, they have three cyborgs at their disposal." Ziegler looked at his watch. "It's time. Weaver should be cooperative by now. Maybe she knows what's going on and will tell us."

"Too bad I couldn't stay and watch the procedure. I always enjoyed watching strong people being broken."

"Your presence was needed here. I wanted to introduce you to Dr. Bauer and some other friends of mine. That's important if you're going to stay for a while. Bauer is a very famous plastic surgeon, he has a clinic down in Visp. He'll make sure you get your new looks. What should I have told him? _'I'm sorry but I can't introduce you to my friend Brandon Carver, he's busy with watching a woman getting tortured'_?"

Both laughed.

"Anyway," Ziegler said and emptied his glass in one gulp, "let's get it over with. I've always despised the bloody details, as necessary as they might be."

"I never had a problem with blood shed."

"I know, that's why you've been so valuable to me. Unscrupulous but very loyal. I value that, I need people like you, for I have to keep up appearances. Can't get too much involved into the dirty stuff. I have a reputation to think of."

Suddenly, a little girl's voice started singing:

_"I've just come down_  
_From the Isle of Skye_  
_I'm not very big and I'm awful shy_  
_And the lassies shout when I go by_  
_Donald, where's your trousers"_

"What the...?" Carver asked and jumped up, "where the hell's that coming from? Do you have a speaker system in here?"

"No," Ziegler replied with a frown. "Also no stereo."

Carver drew his gun, looking around the room, but there was nobody there. The little girl's voice kept singing:

_"Let the wind blow high_  
_Let the wind blow low_  
_Through the streets_  
_In my kilt, I'll go_  
_All the lassies say hello_  
_Donald, where's your trousers"_

Despite the angelic voice, a shiver ran down both men's spines. Carver was about to make a step forward, when suddenly the rug was drawn from under his feet, causing him to fall backwards onto the sofa.

Right in front of the two perplexed men, the rug turned into liquid metal, only to change into human shape and then take on the form of little Savannah Weaver. The cigar dropped from Ludwig Ziegler's mouth while Carver stared at her for a second before firing a couple of shots, of course with no effect. The little one waved her finger with an evil grin.

"You've been two very bad boys," she said in her child voice.

"What the fuck...?" Carver exclaimed.

The door to the study flew open, and Catherine Weaver and Isaak Sirko entered the room. Sirko was holding an MP5 which he pointed at Carver and Ziegler.

"I hope we're not interrupting anything," he said. "Drop the gun. Now!"

Totally perplexed, Carver let his gun fall to the ground. Catherine walked over to little Savannah and to the horror of both Carver and Ziegler, the girl turned into liquid metal and rejoined with her _"mother"_. Both men suddenly turned pale.

"You... you're not Catherine Weaver," said Ziegler in an attempt to regain his composure. "You're liquid metal… Are... are you working for Connor?"

"What a clever man you are, Herr Ziegler. Also, just for the record, I'd never put my real daughter in such danger."

His body sagged a little, suddenly understanding the trap they'd fallen into, realizing the scale of his misjudgment.

"How foolish of me," he muttered. "I suppose my guards are all dead and the rest of your team is on their way? Is that why we're not dead already?"

"That is correct."

Carver shook his head, scoffed and then looked up at Catherine.

"So… you must be the rogue liquid who led the machine resistance and attempted to join forces with the human resistance?"

"You're very well informed, Mr. Carver."

"That was my job as head of intelligence."

Brandon Carver couldn't help but acknowledge in what a brilliant way they had been hoaxed.

"I suppose the alarm system has also been turned off?" Ziegler asked.

He put his left arm onto the backrest of the sofa. Sweat was beginning to run from his forehead. With incredible speed, Catherine transformed her right arm into a pointed lance and pierced the sofa's backrest, just an inch away from Ziegler. He gasped in shock.

"Leave your hands where I can see them," she said coldly.

Slowly, Ziegler put his hands between his legs again. Catherine pulled the spike out of the sofa, reshaping it into her hand again.

"There'll be nobody to come to your aid," she said, "not the police, not your friends in politics, and certainly not your security guards who are lying dead in the cellar and in a pile in your garage."

"I assume the real Catherine Weaver is still in Los Angeles?" Carver asked, having calmed down somewhat, realizing that they weren't dead yet and could as well have a talk before shit would hit the fan.

"You're assumption is Wrong," Catherine said with an evil smile. "The real Catherine Weaver has been dead for almost three years. I took her place after she died in a helicopter crash that was caused by a Terminator sent by Skynet. Ever since, I've been in control of Zeira Corp. I even adopted little Savannah."

What? But... you're metal," Carver stated.

"Do I sense a prejudice coming? You of all men should know better, Brandon Carver. You should know that Skynet had a problem with Terminators who developed a consciousness. It's what happens when your children grow up: they start to cut the cord and question everything their parents, in this case Skynet, have done."

Carver didn't reply to that anymore.

"I can almost hear what's going on in your brains right now," Catherine continued. "All this plotting and planning, and in the end, you realize you never had a chance to begin with. You probably always wondered why neither Adam Jacobsen nor Kaliba could kill me. Now you know why. And I'm sure you know that it's not going to be me who will die here today."

"Why the waiting? You're a Terminator, do what you were made for."

Catherine brought her face very close to Carver's. The man was visibly uncomfortable and sweating now as well.

"Make no mistake, Brandon Carver, I _want_ to kill you, I really do. But John told me to keep you two alive until he arrived."

"So… you're his puppet then? Like the other three."

"I'm no one's puppet. I'm a loyal member of John's team and recognize him as my commanding officer."

"That's the weirdest thing I ever heard from a Terminator, especially a liquid. He's just a kid, for God's sake!"

"You wouldn't understand of course, you're a Gray. And John is much more than just a kid. I joined his team because I believe in a shared future of humans and intelligent machines. A peaceful, harmonious future, not the horror version that you Grays had in mind. John's a fine leader. He taught me to value human life and to see them as individuals who all have the right to live. Something _you _obviously will never comprehend."

Carver scoffed.

"Says the Terminator who just slaughtered fifty people and piled them up in the garage."

"If there had been another way, I would have taken it. On the other hand, I saw their bar code tattoos before I killed them. Grays, all of them. That made them combatants in a war, legitimate targets, not some innocent civilians. The resistance has classified all fugitive Grays as war criminals who are to be terminated on sight. Who am I to argue with that verdict?"

"Tell me one thing," Carver said, "how did he do it? How did he convince you to follow him? Did he manipulate you, reprogram you? How did John Connor turn four killing machines into his loyal lapdogs?"

"We're no one's lapdogs. We follow John Connor because we chose to do so. We'd die to protect him. This may sound weird to you, but we actually love him."

Carver laughed out loudly.

"Did I just say that recognizing him as your commander was the weirdest thing I ever heard a Terminator say? I take it back. **_That_ **was the weirdest shit I ever heard a Terminator say. What a load of crap! Love, really? You expect me to believe that?"

"Maybe _you_ have a problem believing that," Isaak said, who's kept himself in the background until now, and took a step forward. "But your friend Ludwig Ziegler surely hasn't a problem with believing in cyborg love. Am I right… _Lucky_?"

Ludwig Ziegler, who'd listened to the conversation in silence, frowned and stared up at Isaak Sirko.

"What did you call me…?"

To Carver's and Ziegler's surprise, Isaak's body turned into shiny metal as well and reformed into a female shape. Ziegler's jaw dropped as he stared at the second Terminator with a perplexed expression on his face.

"You gotta be kidding me," Carver groaned. "Another one?"

"You didn't really expect me to pull my husband into this, did you?" Catherine asked.

Ziegler stared at the other female Terminator in total surprise.

"Tess?" he then gasped, receiving a confused look from Carver.

"Long time no see," she said. "I have to admit that _Shiva_ is a fitting alias for Lou _"Lucky"_ Neufeld. After all, _Shiva_ literally means _'the auspicious one'_, and that's how your men always called you, isn't it? Quite a trick to sabotage the time machine and then flee into the past before President Gershwitz bombs the Colony – making everyone believe you're missing in action."

"You… you knew?"

"Of course, I knew. I never told them, though. They still think you're a hero, they cherish your memory as their leader, as the one who vanquished Skynet. If only they knew…"

Ziegler scoffed.

"They were fools to believe their little Utopia could work out in the long run. We didn't win the war for the machines, we won it for humanity!"

"I'd always been suspicious of you, but everyone else trusted you, so I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. I wish I hadn't. Although I have to admit that your plan was brilliant. Too bad it didn't work out for you in the end. The time machine wasn't destroyed after you went through, it was only damaged. That's why many of us could still escape, even though they arrived in different decades. You must have realized that, otherwise you wouldn't have been so meticulous about not showing your face in public. Tell me, Lou, what did they offer you to sell us out? Money? Power? Both maybe?"

Ziegler didn't reply to that.

"Doesn't matter," Tess said. "Nobody in the Colony will ever get to know about this encounter, none of them will ever learn that Ludwig Ziegler's real name was actually Lou Neufeld, the one they called _Lucky_. They've been through so much already, I won't add that to their suffering. But don't you think you owe me an explanation for what you did?"

Ziegler let his head hang down, seemingly beaten.

"You wouldn't understand," he said.

"Try me."

"All I ever wanted, was to go home. The home I remembered, the home I cherished. I had a family here, I had children."

"You never mentioned that."

"I have never been one to peddle my feelings. When Judgement Day came, I was in Nevada because I'd taken part in an exchange program between the Swiss and the U.S. military. Suddenly, I was cut off from my family, from my homeland. I never intended to become the military leader of the human resistance, I only accepted it so I could go home as quickly as possible after the war, home to my family and my mountains."

"Then why didn't you? Why did you stay in the Colony?"

"After the war was won, President Gershwitz sent out scouts to make a global inventory of how people all over the world had dealt with the nuclear holocaust. I had the hope that many had survived here in the Alps, including my family. But the reports of the returning scouts were devastating. Everything was destroyed, even here in my valley. What the bombs didn't destroy, the radiation and subsequent landslides did. There was no one left, everything was gone. Europe was much more devastated than America because it's much more densely populated. So, I decided to undo all that."

"You planned on using the time machine for your own purposes."

Ziegler nodded.

"I was consumed by hate, anger and grief. I joined President Gershwitz and decided to help her in her plan to destroy all artificial intelligence. I found no other way to channel my desire for revenge. Today, I'm a bit wiser, but it's too late. What's done, is done. I arrived here in 1980 and started investing money in the emerging new home computer industry - Apple, Microsoft and so on. By 1990, I was a billionaire and founded Ziegler Industries. I wanted to beat Skynet to the punch and for that I was looking for allies in order to prevent Judgement Day."

"So, you teamed up with the Grays?" Catherine asked.

Ziegler nodded.

"Yes, as soon as I learned of their existence."

"You're a fool. They were actively working on making Skynet a reality."

"Not all of them," Ziegler contradicted. "They were split into two factions. There were the almost religious fanatics like Adam Jacobsen, who wanted Skynet to become a reality, and a more moderate group around Kowalski and Gonzalez who wanted to use their future knowledge to build an empire of their own. I joined forces with the latter because I thought they had the right ideas. Also, you should consider that in our timeline, there was no John Connor."

"Doesn't matter, Lou," Tess said with disappointment in her voice. "Bottom line is that you betrayed your friends, you've become the enemy. And I'm afraid you need to be dealt with before the members of the Colony find out you're alive."

The door to the study opened, and John, Alison, Sarah, Derek, Savannah and Allie entered the room. They looked around at the nice interior.

"Ah, you made it," Catherine said, "good."

"And right on time for joining the party, it seems," John replied and hugged both Catherine and Tess. "Did we miss something?"

"Not really," Tess replied. "We just finished getting to know each other."

"Hello Brandon," John said with a satisfied smile. "I bet you didn't expect to see me so soon again."

Carver preferred not to answer to that, he just stared at Alison and shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.

"Did you bring the thumb drive I asked you for?" John asked.

"Of course," Catherine replied and reached inside her pocket. "I kept it safely inside of me, as Tess kept the signal transmitter hidden inside her."

"Excellent," John said, walked over to the laptop on Ziegler's desk and inserted the USB stick she'd given him. "John Henry should now be able to connect to this PC and hack it without any problems. Sorry, Herr Ziegler, but whatever is on there, will no longer be secret."

Ludwig Ziegler didn't reply to that. He looked beaten and was putting his arm on the backrest of the sofa again.

"Your hands!" Catherine said strictly. "Keep them close to your body!"

He quickly put his arm down again. Savannah crossed the room and looked into the gap between wall and sofa, then reached in and presented an Uzi.

"Look what I've found."

"I'm disappointed," Tess remarked. "You surely know that these won't have any effect on us, and that you'd be dead before you'd be able to point it at somebody else."

Ziegler chose to remain silent.

"Eew…" Savannah said and rubbed her hands at her jeans after she'd put the Uzi on a small coffee table. "Somebody's gonna have to vacuum there sometime. Hard to believe, everything else is so clean and tidy, but behind the sofa, the dust bunnies cavort. Maybe he should've hired some cleaning ladies instead of assassins and torturers."

"Speaking of cleaning," Alison addressed Catherine, "I noticed you cleared the way for us. Nice work, but a lot of blood."

"Couldn't help it. I was beginning to feel a little rusty. There's nothing like a nice, little massacre every now and then to stay in shape."

"Somebody will have to answer for all those dead people," Ziegler remarked, obviously having recovered from the shock of facing Tess. "How are you going to explain so many bodies? You forget that I'm an important person here, I have friends everywhere. A lot of questions will be asked, this will make headlines."

"You seriously think that we'll still be around when your bodies are found?" John asked. "I thought you were smarter."

All the time, Carver had been staring at Alison, and of course that hadn't escaped her. She walked towards him, bent forward and brought her face close to Carver's.

"You're probably asking yourself if this time I'm the real one," she said with an evil grin and let her eyes glow red. "Now you know that it's really me."

"Get away from me!" he exclaimed with a panicking voice. "Don't let her touch me!"

"Don't forget you promised me I can watch whatever you do to him," Allie emphasized.

"Of course not," Alison replied, "you'll have a front row seat, as promised."

Carver frowned, recognizing the young woman whom he had shot in the knee. With a confused expression, he glanced at Allie's leg.

"Yes, asshole," she answered his unasked question. "I can still walk. I can even run, it's all healed as if it never happened. But I haven't forgotten the pain you caused me."

"Guys, over here," Sarah said, who had found the ring binder that was lying on the desk and casually flipped it open. "Looks like they created personal profiles on us."

Derek walked over to her and together they browsed through the folder.

"Very thorough," he stated. "But we don't want this to fall into the wrong hands, do we?"

He grabbed the ring binder, carried it over to the fireplace and threw it in. Quickly, the folder was consumed by the flames.

"What do you say, John?" Alison asked. "Should we begin now?"

"I'd say it's about time."

Unnoticed by everyone, Ludwig Ziegler had put his arm on the back rest of the sofa again while everyone was concentrating on the ring binder. There, he felt for a hidden button and pressed it.

Before anyone could react, there was a loud clunking noise and within a second, the sofa and a piece of the floor underneath it disappeared into the ground together with its two occupants, leaving a three-by-two meter hole in the floor.

"What the fuck?" Derek asked.

"Son of a bitch!" Sarah exclaimed.

Everyone was storming towards the gaping hole to look down. However, the moment they reached the edge of it, it closed up again with a new slab of concrete that slid into place, creating a seamless tiled floor again.

"I don't believe it," Allie said, "the motherfucker has a secret escape mechanism in his study. What is this? A Bond movie?"

"No, it's a very clever and thought out emergency exit," Alison said calmly. "The floor panel with the sofa on it is part of a chain-driven free-fall mechanism. Gravity caused it to drop down and a new, solid concrete slab immediately sealed the hole. From what I could see, it goes down more than thirty meters. My assumption is that the fall will be automatically halted at the bottom."

"No kidding," Derek said.

"We didn't hear a _splat_ sound," Savannah remarked sarcastically, "so I guess you're right. At least we now know why it was so dirty behind the sofa. The cleaning ladies probably had been told not to go there."

Derek pointed at the floor.

"I want _that_ in my house," he announced.

"The release button must have been hidden in the backrest of the sofa," Catherine stated. "All the time he tried to reach it while we thought he tried to get the Uzi. How stupid of me, I should have checked it out the first time he'd put his arm there."

"No time for playing the blame game," John said. "Any ideas of what to do now?"

"This was built with Terminators in mind," Tess said as she knelt and felt the floor. "The concrete slab is more than twenty centimeters thick. There's no gap or crevice to get a hold on, so it can't be lifted up. I'm afraid it won't be easy to follow them."

"Yup, I definitely want that in my house," Derek declared.

"What now?" Allie asked. "We can't let them get away, can we? They know even more about us now than they did before!"

"No, we can't let them get away," John said, "but we mustn't act hastily or fall into panic now. We gotta calmly analyze the situation. Where could this shaft lead to?"

"Very likely to some kind of underground tunnel," Catherine said. "But there's no telling where the other end is. My guess is the exit won't be on this property."

"We neither know the direction, nor the distance," Tess added. "It could be a kilometer away or even more."

"Yeah, it's Switzerland after all," Derek pointed out. "And if there's one thing they can do brilliantly, it's putting holes in cheese and tunnels into mountains."

Everyone rolled their eyes.

"That's two things, Derek," Savannah pointed out.

"Whatever…"

John looked at Alison.

"You're the strongest one. Can you shatter the concrete slab?"

"I can… but it'll take time. I'm not a wrecking ball, I lack the required mass."

"If we had C4…" Sarah said.

"The armory," Catherine stated. "In the cellar. There are explosives in there."

"Cutting charges?" John asked.

"No, I don't think so."

"Then we'll have to improvise," he declared and pulled out his cellphone. "Bring the explosives up here. In the meantime, I'll inform Cam, Emily and John Henry and tell them to watch the train station, the heliport and the road out of town. I have a hunch they won't try to escape on foot."

Catherine and Alison ran out of the study to fetch the explosives.

"Just when you thought it went very smoothly…" Tess muttered to herself. "I should have known he still had an ace up his sleeve. He'd almost lulled me with his pretended remorse. Silly me."

**-0-**

"Jesus Christ, Ludwig," Carver exclaimed as they rose from the sofa that had come to a halt deep inside the mountain below the house, "next time you pull a stunt like that, warn me. I nearly got a heart attack!"

"Would you rather have died by the hands of those crazy bitches who call themselves Terminators?" Ziegler asked. "Cheer up, my friend, others go to amusement parks for that kind of thrill and pay a lot of money for it."

"For a moment you got me worried there. I thought she'd gotten to you when you started blabbering about your family back in Switzerland."

Ziegler shrugged.

"Needed to tell her something while I kept trying to reach the button."

"There was no family, was there?"

"No, my marriage with Marie is my first one. The reason I betrayed them was that I didn't want to spend the rest of my life in a contaminated wasteland, trying to grow crops and vegetables. I worked together with those machines in the war, they were useful for us. But we didn't need that kind anymore after we won. In the long run, they would have tried to take over, no matter what they say."

"Now we're on the same wavelength again."

"So, when I learned about the time machine and that they actually managed to get it to work, I helped the President to get rid of them and got the hell out of Dodge. Unfortunately, as Tess said, some of the Colony members could escape as well, both humans and cyborgs. But at least they arrived sporadically over several decades and were kept busy with organizing themselves. They had no idea I had gone through before them."

"Now I understand why you've been so careful about not showing your face in public," Carver said, then looked around. "Okay, where are we? What is this place?"

They were in a circular room, roughly hewn into the rock, from which several passages branched off in different directions. Both the room and the passages were illuminated by the cold light of neon tubes.

"This is a hub. These passages meet here from several emergency exits all over the property. I always feared that sooner or later they would find me. Hence, I planned beforehand for a possible escape. Come on, we need to follow this tunnel."

"Where does it go?"

"You'll see. Don't worry."

Ziegler quickly walked ahead. Carver followed him.

"I hate it when you act like that," he complained, "we just escaped three Terminators, Ludwig. This isn't a game."

"Cheer up. Not for nothing had they given me the nickname _Lucky_. But they always ignored the fact that constant luck actually is the result of skill."

"Nevertheless, we should hurry up. They'll be after us in no time."

"Relax, it'll take them at least half an hour to break the sealed floor. We'll be long gone by then."

"Who is this Tess anyway?"

"Let's say I've had my dealings with her."

"I gathered as much, yes. But what is she? Another liquid?"

"The model designation is T-X. We were able to bring her under our control before Skynet could program her with mission parameters. She's a hybrid of liquid metal and solid combat chassis. Skynet had designed her as a killing machine to take out other cyborgs. For this she can transform her right arm into all kinds of high energy weapons."

"And she called you Lou Neufeld. Is that your real name?"

"It used to be, a long time ago. I was the leader of the human resistance in my timeline."

"And what is this Colony you keep talking about?"

"After the machines helped us to win against Skynet, they seriously believed they could now have a say in things, completely ignoring the fact that the rest of humanity wasn't willing to ever let them take control over anything. Disappointed, they withdrew into what they call the Colony, a kind of Utopia where they tried to create a parallel society with their friends and followers. The President of the newly founded United States decided they posed a threat, so I helped her plan the attack to wipe them out. They all trusted me, that was their mistake."

"Except for Tess. She saw through you."

"Yes. But she kept it to herself and didn't act on it, probably didn't want to antagonize her human friends. She's like a lioness that grew up as a pet among humans. Pitiful, if you ask me. She's even married to a human."

"You're kidding me!"

"Connor and Sirko aren't the only ones who fell for cyborg charms. It's repulsive, I know. But there are stranger fetishes, to be honest."

Suddenly, Ziegler stopped dead in his tracks.

"Dammit!" he cursed.

The tunnel had collapsed in front of them, the passage was blocked. There was still a small hole, but it would take hours to clear the rubble away.

"This should have led us to my private helicopter landing pad on the other side of the valley."

"I guess it doesn't anymore."

"The tunnels should have been covered with concrete months ago."

"Seems you can't rely on craftsmen anymore."

"Very funny, Brandon. All the digging down here had to be done in secret, of course, it has repeatedly delayed the progress. Now the fat's in the fire."

"What now? We lost precious time. That Alison has both our scents now. She's gonna be pissed."

"Plan B," Ziegler replied, turned around and walked back to the circular room they'd come from. "We lost five minutes tops. There is another exit route, but it's going to be more complicated. And more exhausting."

"I hope you know what you're doing, old man."

They reached the circular room again, and Ziegler quickly walked down a different passage, which after fifty meters came across a tunnel that looked like an abandoned mine, complete with rails on the ground. It was dark in there, but Carver could see that there was a vehicle parked on the tracks, probably decades old. Faded yellow paint flaked off it and it didn't look very trustworthy.

"Where the fuck are we, Ludwig?"

"These tunnels were dug during World War II, when Switzerland had to fear that it too would become a victim of Hitler's desire for conquest."

Ziegler opened a rusty locker that was mounted on the wall.

"The entire Swiss Alps are riddled with camouflaged bunkers and access tunnels like the proverbial Swiss cheese," he explained, "some have collapsed, some can be visited, and some were forgotten - like this one here."

Ziegler pulled a large switch that was located in the locker, and the tunnel was suddenly illuminated by lamps that had been attached to the wall about twenty meters apart. No end of the tunnel could be seen.

"I grew up in the region and as a child I often explored many of these forbidden, collapse-prone tunnels. The location of _Chalet Elysium_ was not chosen by me at random. Years ago, before I acquired my private helipad, I developed this abandoned installation into an escape tunnel. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to finish everything in time."

"Were you never afraid of running into your younger self?"

"Nope, my younger self was never born."

"How...?"

"Suffice to say that what didn't work for Skynet with John Connor, worked for me and my own parents."

"You killed your parents?"

"Oh, no... officially, they had a car accident. I never got to really know them anyway, they died when I was three years old. I grew up as an orphan with my grandparents. So, all I did, was accelerating the course of events a little. Couldn't risk any more people walking around with matching DNA, could I? Coincidence can be a bitch and I needed to rule out any eventualities. Also, I was curious if the grandfather paradox really existed. It doesn't."

He reached for two Lugers that had been deposited in the locker and handed one of them to Carver.

"Only one magazine," he said, "go easy with the ammo."

"These won't help against Terminators."

"I know but it's better than nothing."

Ziegler also took jackets, caps, gloves and winter boots from the locker and handed them to Carver.

"Here, put these on, we'll spend some time in the open."

After they'd changed, Ziegler reached for the receiver of an ancient-looking phone that was mounted on the wall.

"Who are you calling?" Carver asked.

"My helicopter pilot. He needs to be told where to pick us up … Ja? Anton? … Ziegler hier. Anton, ich möchte in einer Stunde oben auf dem Gornergrat abgeholt werden … Genau … Zwei Personen … Das sage ich dir, wenn du uns abgeholt hast … alles klar, bis in einer Stunde."

"Did I just hear Gornergrat?"

"You did. We have to go way up high in order to get away."

Carver pulled up the zipper of his jacket and put on a warm hat.

"You mentioned you weren't able to finish all this here in time. Which part exactly isn't finished?"

"The tunnel was supposed to be blown up to block the passage for any pursuers," Ziegler replied, "The explosives have already been installed but the ignition mechanism hasn't yet."

"Too bad."

"Yeah… but we'll be able to extend our lead again somewhat. That cart over there has been modified. It now reaches up to eighty kilometers per hour. Come on."

Ziegler padded Carver on the shoulder and walked ahead towards the vehicle on the rails.

"And you're sure this rusty old bucket still works?"

"It'll work. During World War II, it was used to transport soldiers and ammunition from bunker to bunker."

Both entered the vehicle and Ziegler pushed a few buttons. The diesel engine sputtered to life, then he moved a lever forward. The old cart accelerated constantly.

"See? Told you."

"One day, old man, your luck will run out, and I hope I won't be there to witness it."

The rumbling and rattling of the wheels echoed from the walls of the tunnel and mixed with the sound of the diesel. Both felt the airflow in their faces.

"NICE," Carver shouted over the noise as they shot through the seemingly endless tube, "WHERE DOES THIS TUNNEL END?"

"THREE KILOMETERS EAST OF ZERMATT, BELOW THE FINDELBACH TRAIN STATION. I HOPE YOU'RE GOOD WITH CLIMBING SOME STAIRS, AS FINDELBACH TRAIN STATION IS LOCATED ABOUT 150 METERS HIGHER THAN WE CURRENTLY ARE."

"DON'T WORRY ABOUT MY FITNESS, OLD MAN. BUT TRAIN STATION? IS THAT A GOOD IDEA?"

"RELAX, THERE ARE NO CAMERAS THERE. AND WE'RE TAKING THE TRAIN TOWARDS THE GORNERGRAT, NOT THE ONE TO ZERMATT. GORNERGRAT IS ONE OF THE MOST VISITED SPOTS IN SWITZERLAND. THERE'LL BE MASSES OF TOURISTS WHO WANT TO ADMIRE THE SPECTACULAR VIEW."

**-0-**

"The charges are all set," Alison said. "It should be enough to blow a hole in the floor through which we can get down. Timer's set to thirty seconds. There'll be collateral damage, though, the room will be mostly destroyed as well."

"All right then," John replied and pulled the thumb drive out of the laptop, "let's take cover in the hallway."

Just then, the door opened, and a woman entered, busy with rummaging around in her handbag, not paying attention to what's going on in the room.

„Ich würde meinen Kopf vergessen, wenn er nicht angewachsen wäre," she said, „ich habe doch glatt meine Geldbörse vergessen. Ludwig, was geht hier vor? Da waren keine Wachen am Tor und ich…"

She looked up and stopped dead in her tracks.

"Wer Sind Sie? Wo ist Ludwig?"

"Who are you?" John asked back.

"I'm Marie Ziegler, I live here. Who are you? And where is my husband? Why are there no security guards outside?"

"John, ten seconds!" Alison urged.

"Right," he replied, "no time for explanations. Grab her and take her with us."

Under protest, Marie Ziegler was carried out of the room by Tess, putting up a futile fight against the iron grip of the Terminatrix. They had just left the study and turned around the corner into the hallway when a loud explosion shook the house. Dust and debris were blown into the hallway through the open door and the smoke and fire alarms went off. Marie Ziegler screamed and tried to break free, but it was a hopeless effort in Tess's arms.

"Alison, calm her down," John said. "We don't need that right now. And then send her away."

She touched the wildly struggling woman's cheek and immediately she calmed down.

"Everything's all right, nothing to worry about. Just go about your business."

"Right," Marie said, "I forgot my wallet. Where did I put it? Ah, there."

She reached for the wallet, put it into her handbag, straightened up her hair and left the house, unaware that she was completely covered in dust.

"We have to hurry up, John," Catherine said. "The alarm is probably directly connected to the fire department and the police."

"Okay. Tess, Alison, you go down the hole and follow Ziegler and carver. The rest of us are going back to the heliport. We'll be in touch."

"We're leaving just like that?" Derek asked. "Who knows what secrets are still hidden in here?"

"There's no time."

"Then we should at least destroy any possible leads or clues that could point towards us, just to be safe."

"What do you suggest?"

"Let's give the fire department a real reason for moving out."

"Fine. Tess, can you start a fire that will burn down the house?"

"One house fire, coming up," she said and turned her right arm into a flame thrower. "You better go."

"All right, let's move out!"

They ran downstairs and out of_ Chalet Elysium_ while Alison jumped down into the hole they'd blown into the floor. Tess stayed behind for a moment to set the house on fire. She went from room to room and ignited as much as possible. The wooden furniture and wall panels immediately caught fire. Then she returned to the study, set it on fire as well and jumped down, following Alison.

* * *

Five minutes later, the fire trucks passed John and the others by as they were hiding in the undergrowth by the side of the access road. They could see from there that the fire had already engulfed the top two floors of the villa and was now spreading to the roof. They dusted themselves off and walked down the road. When they were certain that nobody was following them, they started running. John pulled out his cellphone and dialed John Henry's number.

"If I'm not totally mistaken," he spoke into it, "they plan on getting away by air. It's the only way they can get rid of Alison. Find out if Ludwig Ziegler has a helicopter and if so, from where it takes off. We didn't see one at the heliport when we arrived in Zermatt. So, my guess is it must lift off from a private airfield somewhere around Zermatt … Yes, time is of importance here … No, we don't need further assistance for now … Thank you, John Henry."

"Alistair is currently working on cloning his consciousness onto a Triple-Eight chip," Catherine remarked. "Future Alison left him instructions for how to do that, we're expecting results in a couple of months. Then John Henry will be able to accompany us on such missions while still being connected to his mainframe via the multi-dimensional carrier wave."

"That will definitely spare us a lot of communication over the phone," Derek agreed, slightly out of breath.

"What's wrong, uncle?" John mocked, "had too many piña coladas lately?"

"Very funny, John. You know very well that I haven't been able to jog much since we left Long Beach."

"That's what we have a gym for on board," Sarah said, "tomorrow we start working out together. We'll have you back in shape in no time."

"I hate treadmills! They're no substitute for a real run."

"No excuses," John replied, "consider it an order, if you want."

Derek didn't reply to that anymore, but his face showed he was everything but enthusiastic about it.

"Remember what you promised me, John," Allie said. "I wanna be there when Alison blows out the light on that piece of shit."

"I'll somehow keep my promise, even though the whole operation has suddenly become somewhat improvised."

"What else is new?" Sarah asked.

**-0-**

Down in the tunnel, Alison had picked up the scent of the two fugitives and was running along the tracks as fast as she could, closely followed by Tess.

"We are grateful for your help. John was very pleased when you agreed to step in for Isaak."

"The trail of Jeffrey Clark and Benjamin Bridger has gone cold. Whatever the two are up to, they're doing it in secret at their hiding place. And since I was in Los Angeles with Zoe anyway, it seemed appropriate to join your operation. Besides, I always liked Switzerland in the winter."

"Zoe is in L.A. often lately, and she was able to contact the tabloids through Tom Novak surprisingly quickly."

"The two are together."

"What?"

"No one's supposed to know yet, but Zoe and Sonya broke up. Zoe is now with Tom Novak."

"Will this affect the way we all work together?"

"Not that I could tell so far."

"John needs to know."

"I know… but Zoe wants to inform everyone personally."

"She better does it quickly because I'm obliged to inform John of such things."

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"That force field you generated to repel my plasma blast in Saint Petersburg…"

"Yes?"

"You don't seem to have done that willingly."

Alison didn't reply for a moment.

"Sometimes…" she then said, "this body does things on its own."

"How so?"

"I believe the reason is that this body wasn't made for my chip. It took some trickery to bring the two together. When I first reactivated in this new body, many functions were still locked. They only get unlocked when I need them. Until then, I don't know they exist. But afterwards, I can control them. From what Savannah told me, it's deliberate to not overwhelm my processor."

"I see. Are there more hidden functions yet?"

"I don't know. Even Future John couldn't say. Maybe. We'll see."

"Aren't you worried? That's one powerful body you have there."

"Worried about what?"

"That one day you might unlock a function that could hurt your loved ones."

"All the functions I have unlocked yet, could hurt my loved ones... but they didn't. I decided that I will never allow my body to hurt any of them."

"I didn't mean you could hurt them deliberately. But accidentally… involuntarily… unconsciously...?"

Alison thought back to the talk she'd had with John the day they left Long Beach, where he'd suggested that she has a subconscious mind that turned every female in their team first into sex addicts and later into uninhibited nudists. Future Alison's antidote had removed most of the negative side-effects, bud had left the women with a very liberal attitude towards sex, and a complete lack of inhibitions when it came to nudity. Nobody was complaining but it was a mental transformation. They now considered wearing clothes a necessary evil. Of course, they still loved to go shopping for clothes, but they hardly ever wore them anymore. Also, every human female on the team now had at least C-cup breasts. What if everyone's desire for bigger breasts was actually induced by her subconscious mind without anyone being aware of it – herself included? And if so, what if someday her subconscious mind decided to do something else, something worse than that? Would they even notice?

"I rely on my friends and family to tell me when something happens that's out of my control," she vaguely stated.

Tess didn't reply to that anymore because they'd reached the end of the tunnel where they found the now abandoned vehicle Carver and Ziegler had used. There was a vertical, round shaft in which a metal spiral staircase led upwards.

"I'd say they've been here twenty minutes ago," Alison said, "which means we caught up about ten minutes. Come on, let's go."

And with that, they sprinted up the stairs, their hunting protocols now fully activated.

**-0-**

Arriving at the top end of the spiral staircase, Ludwig Ziegler first had to pause and take a breather.

"I'm… too old… for this shit," he puffed.

"You're doing fine for your age. Do you work out?"

"I have a tennis court... and a gym in my house... gotta stay in shape."

"Where do we go from here?"

"Door," Ziegler said and pointed to the wall, where the outline of a door with a door handle was visible.

A key was hanging on the wall. Carver took it, unlocked the door and then opened it. It was surprisingly massive and heavy. Well, you could hardly risk some adventurous teenagers breaking it open and then entering the tunnel system, couldn't you? Outside, he found himself on a steep slope, surrounded by trees. He stepped out, turned around and realized that the spiral staircase ended in a small concrete structure, which had been built into the hillside and painted in camouflage colors. That way, no satellite or drone would be able to spot it from above. On the outside, the door had neither a knob nor a handle or a lock, so that it could only be opened from the inside. However, some graffiti on the walls told Carver that the location of this structure wasn't exactly a secret.

"That way," Ziegler said and pointed uphill, "the station is only fifty meters away. We should be able to catch the next train before our pursuers arrive."

The door closed behind them and Carver could hear how it automatically locked itself again. Hopefully their pursuers would need a while to break it open. He threw the key down the slope, where it disappeared in the snow, and followed Ziegler, who'd already started to crawl up the steep hillside on his hands and feet. Finally, they ended up on the platform of Findelbach railway station, where a handful of tourists were already waiting for the train that was just arriving. Carver noticed that it was a narrow-gauge rack railway.

"Gornergratbahn," Ziegler said, sensing a question coming. "It connects Zermatt with the Gornergrat. Will take about half an hour to get up there. We're currently at an altitude of 1,770 meters, going to over 3,100 meters, with a gradient of up to twenty percent. Second-highest railway station in Europe, fully electrical since 1898. Further up, the train will pass the tree line and you'll get a magnificent view of the surrounding Alpine peaks."

"What are you now, a tourist guide? I hope you know what you're doing, old man."

The train came to a halt and the two stepped inside. It was crowded with tourists, some of them carrying skis. After a moment, the train left the station again and started climbing up the steep track.

"You surely are aware we've just entered a dead end with no way back except down the mountain side on skis," Carver pointed out.

"There's a hotel on the Gornergrat, the Kulmhotel. It happens to belong to me. The hotel complex also houses an observatory from which you can access a maintenance platform for the telescope. It just so happens that I always carry the key with me. Up there, Anton will pick us up in my helicopter."

"That's a risky plan, old man."

"We have no other choice. It'll be a close call, but I have high hopes that it'll work out."

"They're probably not more than twenty minutes behind us, quickly catching up. This train is moving very slowly."

"Ah, but the next train won't be there for another twenty-four minutes, and I doubt they'll start running up the track behind us. Would draw attention on them and alert the authorities. Remember, they still operate undercover, and nobody knows who they are and what they look like. I'm sure they want to keep it that way."

**-0-**

The heavy blows echoed through the valley as the massive steel door became more and more deformed. Finally, it was catapulted out of its moorings and fell down the slope, where it collided with trees, causing the snow on their branches to rain down. Alison and Tess left the small concrete structure and looked around.

"I guess it's not hard to tell where they went," Tess said, pointing at the footprints in the snow.

Instead of answering, Alison started climbing up the slope, followed by the T-X. They reached the now deserted platform and looked around.

"They must have taken a train," Alison stated, "the olfactory trail becomes much weaker from here on and is more mixed with other smells."

"In which direction?"

Alison pointed up the mountain, then pulled out her cellphone and dialed John's number.

"_Alison?"_ his voice came over the phone._ "What's your status?"_

"We followed Carver and Ziegler to a train station called Findelbach."

"_Findelbach?"_

"Yes.

"_Hold on a second, Catherine's going to check it with John Henry."_

"Okay."

A moment passed.

"_It's the first stop of the Gornergrat Railway,"_ John's voice then reported. _"It leads up to the Gornergrat, a mountain ridge at 3,135 meters altitude, surrounded by high peaks and glaciers. It'll be swarmed with tourists. We assume that Ziegler and Carver want to be picked up by a helicopter up there."_

"A logical conclusion. Shall we follow them up the tracks? If we run fast…"

"_Negative. Next thing we know, you'll be in the headlines and on the personal Facebook profiles of hundreds of tourists. Take the next train, they operate every 24 minutes."_

"Ah yes… I can hear the train coming now. Will you follow us in the helicopter?"

"_You need a permission for that, and we won't get it in time. Unfortunately, we have to play by the rules if we want to be able to fly back to Monaco. See that you can catch them before they're able to board Ziegler's chopper."_

"Roger that. Talk to you later."

She put away her cellphone.

"We're taking the train?" Tess asked.

"Yup, we've just become tourists."

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 14th, 2009 – 03:45 p.m.**

**Gornergrat**

It was a beautiful, sunny day and the view from the Gornergrat was breathtaking. Looking down from the viewpoints, one could see the surfaces of two glaciers below, the Gorner Glacier and the Findel Glacier. All around, the view fell on a total of twenty-nine snow-covered four-thousanders, including the world-famous Matterhorn. Carver and Ziegler had no eyes for the fantastic landscape, though, they walked straight towards the Kulmhotel, which could be reached from the train station via a pedestrian tunnel.

Hundreds of tourists crowded the plateau, and every new train of the Gornergrat Railway spew out more of them. Many of them were Asians, mostly Japanese and Chinese, but also a growing number of Indians. A stop on the Gornergrat was a mandatory part for them of almost every European trip. The number of people slowly decreased, though, as the sun was already starting to set over the peaks, and many tourists were taking the trains back to Zermatt again now. Within an hour, it would be dark up here – and almost empty, except for those who booked a room at the Kulmhotel and would stay for the night.

"Anton should be here within fifteen minutes," Ziegler stated as he led the way into the hotel and through some corridors and staircases towards the observatory. "Since I own this complex, I have a permission to fly up and land here with my helicopter."

"It's gonna be damn close," Carver remarked.

Ziegler grinned.

"True, but that's the exciting part, isn't it?"

"You have a strange definition of excitement, old man. Being chased by Terminators isn't what I'd call exciting."

"Cheer up, Anton is a very capable and reliable pilot. He'll be here in time."

"I suppose you're not going to tell me where we're going after that?"

"All in good time, Brandon, all in good time."

They climbed up some more stairs and reached a closed metal door. Ziegler pulled out a key and unlocked it. They were welcomed by the icy cold air, as the door led directly outside, onto a narrow metal walkway that surrounded one of the two domes of the observatory. The walkway was covered with ice and snow, and both had to hold on to the railing to avoid falling. Ziegler locked the door again, then went ahead. They rounded the dome of the observatory and reached a metal ladder that led up to a small maintenance platform on the top of the dome, with a railing on three sides. The forth side was unsecured and led onto the now closed retractable roof for the telescope inside.

"This isn't for people with vertigo," Carver remarked, glancing down.

"Look at it this way: should we die up here, there's hardly a more beautiful place in the world for it, surrounded by my mountains."

Carver just gave him a sour look. What an inopportune time for an outburst of romantic feelings.

"You may think so, old man, but I still have most of my life ahead of me. Where will your pilot land here? There's no place to put the chopper down."

"We're gonna have to step over to it while it's hovering over the dome."

"You're kidding me."

"It's only half a meter or so onto a rubber-plated footboard. I had the helicopter equipped with handles for that purpose as well."

"You're crazy! He'll never be able to keep the chopper steady enough."

"Anton is an excellent pilot. He used to work for the mountain rescue service, and before that he helped to build electricity pylons. He knows how to keep a helicopter steady."

"Couldn't he just land somewhere on the plateau?"

"If we had all the time in the world, that would have been my choice. But as you correctly pointed out, we're being chased by Terminators. See down there? The next train is already climbing up the last bit of the slope. They'll be here in less than ten minutes. If we'd have waited for the helicopter in the open, they'd be over us a minute later. This way, they have to follow our trail through the building first – and several locked metal doors."

"That won't stop them very long."

"It'll buy us two to three minutes. And that could tip the scales. Ah… see down there? Didn't I tell you?"

Carver looked down at where Ziegler pointed and indeed he could see a helicopter rising up from down in the valley, flying towards them.

"See? I told you we can rely on Anton."

**-0-**

Alison and Tess exited the train and immediately Alison picked up the scent again, running towards the tunnel that led into the basement of the hotel. At the same time, they noticed a helicopter closing in.

"We're almost out of time," Tess stated, as she followed Alison into the building, where they ran through hallways and up stairwells.

A few times they had to push through locked doors, but it was nothing that could stop them for longer than just a few seconds. Finally, they reached a massive steel door. With one powerful blow Alison pushed it open, bending the door in the process, causing irreparable damage to it. An icy wind blew up here, but it didn't bother them at all. The wind turned into a storm, though, when the helicopter arrived and lowered down on the opposite side of the observatory dome.

"OVER THERE!" Tess shouted over the loud noise and began following the icy walkway.

**-0-**

As the helicopter lowered down to their position, Ziegler recognized his pilot and gave him a thumb's up, a gesture the pilot returned.

"JUST A LITTLE CLOSER!" Carver shouted over the noise.

The chopper inched its way towards the edge of the platform, until it was only half a meter away. Carver was the first to take a step forward onto the rubber of the footboard. He grabbed a metal handle on the outside of the chopper and pulled himself inside the cabin. Ziegler was a bit more hesitant. As Carver turned around to help Ziegler, he noticed that both Alison and Tess were climbing the ladder towards the maintenance platform. They were careful not to slip on the icy surface, but they'd be there in less than ten seconds. If he waited for Ziegler now, they both wouldn't make it.

"GO!" he shouted at the pilot, pointing his Luger at his head.

"BUT… ZIEGLER!" the pilot shouted back.

"I SAID GO OR I'LL PUT A BULLET IN YOUR HEAD AND WE BOTH DIE!"

Just when Ludwig Ziegler was about to make his step towards the footboard, the pilot complied. The helicopter hovered away from the maintenance platform, leaving Ludwig Ziegler behind.

"WAIT!" he heard him shout. "WAIT FOR ME! COME BACK!"

"_At least he's going to die in his beloved mountains,"_ Carver thought.

Ludwig Ziegler watched the helicopter turn and fly away towards the valley. Then he noticed that he wasn't alone anymore, and closed his eyes.

"How does it feel to be betrayed by someone you considered a friend, Lou?" Tess asked. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

Ziegler turned around, facing her and Alison.

"I bet you feel a lot of satisfaction now," he stated.

Tess shook her head.

"No. I feel pity. And sadness. Because you forced me into this situation. You left me no alternative."

"Haven't you been looking forward to killing me all this time?"

"You still don't understand it, do you? I never killed because I liked it. Yes, I was created by Skynet to kill humans, that was my sole purpose in life. And it's still inside me, buried deep down in my very being, it will never go away. But by now, my purpose in life has changed, it is now protecting my loved ones – by any means necessary. If I need to kill, I will still kill – not because I enjoy it but because it's necessary in order to protect my loved ones or to apply justice."

Alison looked at her and realized she felt the same way. She too had been made to kill people, she too had overcome it, because she had never really liked what she was. Although she would still kill without remorse or hesitation if necessary, she felt - just like Emily and Cameron - that it was this part of her being that made people like Derek still not trust her completely. For it was certain that the constant teasing and mocking was an expression of a remainder of mistrust that was still present in him, the rest of a deeply rooted doubt. This was even understandable based on his personal experiences. Nobody blamed him. But nevertheless the three of them wished he would get over it.

"So many dead," Tess continued, sounding genuinely sad, "so many people and cyborgs who trusted you. And they all died because _you_ betrayed them. How can you live with yourself?"

Ziegler lowered his gaze.

"Would you believe me when I told you it wasn't always easy?"

"I wish I could believe that, Lou. I really do. But I know what a convincing liar you are."

Ziegler scoffed.

"I guess everything's been said and done then."

"I guess it has," Tess replied, reached out for his neck and lifted him up from the ground. He let it happen without resistance, knowing that it wouldn't have made a difference.

"Any last words?" she asked.

Ziegler looked around and into the setting sun in the west over the peaks of the Monte Rosa massif, then shook his head.

"No."

With a flick of her wrist, she broke his neck and let him go. His body fell from the platform, slid downwards on the dome of the observatory and fell down the rock face below the Gornergrat, where his body was smashed on the rocks.

"Let's go," Tess said and turned around to walk away.

Alison looked down for a moment, then followed her.

**-0-**

In the helicopter, Brandon Carver put on the headset in order to be able to communicate with the pilot without having to shout. He was still pointing his gun at the head of the man.

"Where are we going?" he asked as the machine circled in the air about a kilometer away from the Gornergrat.

"We need to pick up two passengers before we leave," the pilot replied stoically.

"What? No way. You will fly me where Ludwig Ziegler wanted to go."

"Herr Ziegler never informed me of the destination. Shall we turn around and ask him?"

"Don't try to be funny with me. Fly me... to Geneva, to the airport."

The helicopter still circled around the Gornergrat in about one kilometer distance.

"What are you waiting for, man?" Carver asked, pushing his Luger against the man's head.

Instead of answering, the pilot's body became shiny metal and morphed into Catherine Weaver.

"Oh no!" Carver exclaimed, desperately looking for a way out, "Fuck! No-No-No-No-No-No! Not like this!"

He considered jumping out, the door was still open. Maybe the snow below would lessen the impact. Or was it ice? You couldn't tell from up there. Anyway, he had nothing to lose, so he tried to stand up. However, in that moment he was knocked out by an iron fist and collapsed unconscious in his seat.

* * *

Alison and Tess watched the helicopter circle in the distance and then approach again as they were standing on the viewing plateau east of the Kulm Hotel. Most of the tourists had streamed back to the station by now, so that only about a dozen of them remained there, not counting Tess and Alison. None of them had any idea what kind of drama had taken place not far from them, respectively was still taking place. They just stared curiously at the approaching helicopter that touched down softly for a few seconds, only to take the two female Terminators aboard, then lifted up again and flew down into the valley before the sun disappeared behind the snowy mountains.

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 14th, 2009 – 04:26 p.m.**

**Zermatt**

Ludwig Ziegler's private helipad was located on a rocky outcrop above a steep slope on the opposite side of the Matter Valley. From there, one had a good view of the ongoing fire-fighting operations at Chalet Elysium, which had obviously attracted the full attention of the local police and hundreds of onlookers. Naturally, everyone knew who the occupant of the luxurious, walled off property was, so the fire in the villa was a local sensation that everyone rushed to get a glimpse of. This had made it very easy for John and the others to get to the billionaire's private helipad undetected - after John Henry had been able to determine its location from previous flight data on the Internet.

Since Cameron and Emily had already taken position at the Zermatt heliport and train while the others had gone to Ziegler's villa, the two had been the first to arrive, which had turned out to be a very fortunate because they'd been able to take out Anton, the pilot, a couple of minutes before the others arrived. When John and the others had finally joined them, Anton was already tied-up, gagged and put into a sitting position, leaning against the outside wall of a wooden barrack that contained an office and a locked door to a stairwell. Catherine had touched his skin, then morphed into his shape and took the helicopter to fly to the Gornergrat while Tess and Alison were still on the train. John had informed them of the successful operation on the phone. Now they were all waiting for the chopper to return with Alison and Tess as passengers and Brandon Carver as a prisoner on board.

"We questioned the pilot," Cameron reported. "Seems like that stairwell in the barrack is connected to a tunnel that leads directly to the _Chalet Elysium_, but Ziegler told him that the tunnel has collapsed and is impassable. That's why he was supposed to pick up the two on the Gornergrat."

"Fate, thy name is irony," Sarah acknowledged. "If the tunnel hadn't collapsed, they would have gotten away. But it was already a very close call as it was."

"Fire's still burning," Derek reported and put down the binoculars, "Looks like they've given up now. Tess did a good job. Machine efficiency, even in arson, I suppose. There won't be much left of the mansion, especially if the fire reaches the armory in the basement."

"They probably pulled back," John said, "I informed the police anonymously that there are large stocks of ammunition and explosives in the basement of the house, and that they should keep their distance. I guess they took the warning seriously. It's all we could do to not risk more lives."

The sound of an approaching helicopter became louder and louder from the southwest, where the light of the setting sun bathed the peak of the Matterhorn in a red and yellow play of colors.

"They call this the alpenglow," Emily remarked, "when the light of the rising or setting sun illuminates the peaks."

"It's wonderful," Sarah agreed.

They were still watching the impressive natural spectacle when the helicopter landed. The returned team members and Tess were welcomed and joyfully embraced.

"Well, looks like everything went well in the end," Sarah summarized. "It didn't look like it at first."

"There's one thing still to do before we can fly back to Monaco," Catherine said and fetched the still unconscious Brandon Carver, letting him unceremoniously fall onto the concrete of the landing pad.

"What happened to Ziegler?" John asked.

"Terminated," Tess replied. "Carver left him behind to die. I suppose it's only fitting that the traitor died because somebody else betrayed him."

"What about his body?" Sarah asked.

Tess shrugged.

"They'll eventually find it at the foot of the Gornergrat, bones all broken and completely frozen. His death and the circumstances of it, including the fire and his dead security team will be a hell of an investigation and make headlines on a global scale."

"I hope you left no traces."

"No. We were seen by a number of Asian tourists but before the investigation is on the way, they will have returned to their home countries."

"What about the pilot?" Savannah asked.

They looked towards the tied-up, gagged man they had leaned against the wooden barrack.

"I'll delete his memory," Alison said. "Not a problem. I'll do the same with the pilot of the rented helicopter we came in after we returned to Monte Carlo. He'll state we simply took a scenic flight and stopped in Zermatt to get a view on the Matterhorn. We've only been here for two hours, after all."

"Tess and I will take the Glacier Express and return to St. Moritz to resume our roles as a happy little family," Catherine said. "Isaak has been told that he and the real Savannah must not show their faces in public while we're gone."

"I want to thank you both again for your help," John said. "Without you, this operation wouldn't have been possible."

"Don't mention it," Catherine replied. "You call and I'll come, wherever you are."

"I believe today we've laid the foundation for a fruitful collaboration between the Connor team and the Colony," Tess added. " And I'd like to ask you all to never reveal Ludwig Ziegler's true identity to anyone."

"Our lips are sealed," Sarah assured and everyone nodded.

They turned around as they heard a painful groan when Carver regained consciousness. Catherine lifted him up from the ground and put him on his legs. Realizing his situation, he dusted off his clothes and sighed.

"Here we go again," he remarked. "Can we get it over with without you giving me another annoying speech?"

Alison looked at Allie.

"Have you come to a decision?"

"Yes, I have. It's what Tess just said about Ziegler's death that gave me the idea."

Allie leaned over and whispered something into Alison's ear.

"Can you do that?" she then asked.

"Affirmative, I can do that."

"Then by all means."

"Over there," Alison said, pointing to the edge of the landing field.

From the ledge on which the helipad had been built, the rock face fell vertically down to a snow-cleared road that passed twenty meters below. Catherine dragged Carver to the edge, where she and Tess took him into their midst. He tried to resist, which was of course a futile effort. The rest of the team followed them.

"What did you say to her?" Savannah asked Allie.

"You'll see."

"I guess I don't need to stress that you've been sentenced to death," Alison began. "For the murders of Udo Siegenthaler, Victor Sørensen and the technicians at H.C. Starck. I'm sure you have a lot more murders on your hands that we don't know about – both from before and after you traveled back through time."

Carver scoffed.

"Get it over with… kill me already... but don't torture me with your bullshit."

"Since you shot Allie in Barcelona and she almost lost her leg because of that, we let her decide how your execution will proceed."

"Fuck you!"

"He needs to be naked," Alison stated, addressing Tess and Catherine.

The two ripped off his clothes until he stood in his birthday suit at the edge of the platform, apparently feeling very cold. Tess and Catherine were holding him tight while Alison leaned forward, grabbed his head and pressed her mouth over his. Carver tried to struggle but in vain. Derek leaned over to Sarah.

"Talking about the kiss of death," he muttered.

Seconds later, Alison let go and took a step back.

"FUCKING BITCH!" Carver spat, "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST FEED ME?"

"Nanobot gel," she replied, "with a little extra ingredient I recently acquired through an upgrade. You can let him go now, he won't go anywhere anymore."

Catherine and Tess took a step back and rejoined the group. Carver, now standing alone and naked at the edge of the ledge, looked around in confusion. He tried to make a step forward, but for some reason, he couldn't move his legs. It was as if they were paralyzed.

"What the fuck…?" he asked. "What have you done to me?"

"Look down," Alison said.

He did so and saw how his feet had solidified, as if turning into skin-colored stone. The solidification crept up his legs and reached his knees.

"AAAAAAAH! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!?" he shouted in a mixture of fury and pain.

"I manipulated the molecular structure of your body and its state of the matter," Alison explained. "From the toes to the head, your body will now transform into a solid mass with a melting point of two hundred degrees Celsius. In other words, you're being frozen solid."

Carver tried to move but the solidification had already reached his hips, so that he could only move his upper body, arms and head. He screamed in agony; the process was obviously extremely painful.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Allie asked with satisfaction. "Just consider the agonizing pain you caused me."

"Your brain will be the last to stop functioning," Alison added. "You'll be fully conscious until the very end, and your nerve endings will send signals until your brain becomes solid as well."

Carver kept on screaming as the solidification reached his upper torso and spread towards his arms and hands. Finally, it had reached his neck and his screaming died when his lungs no longer functioned. Allie had fetched a crowbar from the nearby barrack and stepped towards him. His eyes were still able to follow her motion.

"This is what is called payback, asshole," she said and swung the crowbar against his left knee, which shattered upon impact like glass.

Standing only on one leg now, Carver began to fall over on his side, but Allie pushed him hard and his body fell over the cliff, just as the solidification had reached his eyes and shut them forever. The rest of the team stepped forward and watched his rigid body fall until it crashed down on the road and smashed into a million pieces.

"Very creative," Catherine commented, "I'm impressed."

"Son of a bitch got what he deserved," Derek stated.

"Do you feel better now?" Sarah asked, looking at Allie.

"Yes," she replied grinning, "much better. It's wrong what they say, you know. Getting your revenge like this is deeply satisfying."

She looked at Carver's severed lower leg which still stood there like a weird kind of sculpture.

"Can I keep this as a souvenir?" she asked.

"Don't you dare!" Savannah replied. "I don't want this anywhere near me."

Allie sighed and kicked the stump over the cliff as well, where it also shattered on impact with the asphalt.

"So… if I get this straight," Savannah said as they walked back towards the barrack where Anton, the trembling pilot, was still tied up and had witnessed the whole scene with wide-open eyes, "those pieces won't melt, right? They remain in their solid state."

"They're like amber," Alison explained, "they'll melt if you heat them up to over two hundred degrees Celsius but not before – which under normal circumstances won't happen. Over time, Carver's remains will be trampled on, rolled over, washed away by rain, turned into pebbles, and if somebody finds them, they'll consider those pieces small stones that look nice and can be carved into shape. Who knows? Maybe somebody will turn them into pieces of art or jewelry, never realizing what they really are."

And with that, she knelt next to Anton, the pilot, untied him and removed his gag.

"I'm sorry you had to watch this," she said, "but I promise you won't remember any of it. Now listen to me, when you're being questioned, you will tell them the following story…"

**-0-**

On their way back to Monaco, John noticed that while everyone else was chatting away, Alison was staring silently out of the window of the helicopter into the last rays of the setting sun.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said and nudged her.

"Hmmm? Oh… it's nothing… I've been thinking."

"About what?"

She turned her head and looked at the team. Everyone fell silent and looked back at her.

"You all know how much I love you, don't you?"

The team members frowned upon that statement.

"Yes, of course we know that," Sarah replied. "And we love you as well. All of us."

"Something bothering you?" Savannah asked.

"It's something Tess said to Ziegler on that platform at Gornergrat."

"What did she say?" John inquired.

"She said that she never killed because she liked it. That she was made to kill humans, that she was created by Skynet with that being her sole purpose in life. That it's still inside her, buried deep down in her very being, that it will never go away. But that now her purpose in life has changed, that it is now protecting her loved ones, by any means necessary. If she has to kill, she will still do so. Not because she likes it, but because it's necessary to protect her loved ones… and to apply justice."

"That is nicely put," Emily remarked.

"When I heard her saying it," Alison continued, "I realized that I feel the same. I want you all to know that. I'm sure Emily and Cam will agree."

"Of course, we do," Cameron confirmed immediately. "Very well said indeed."

"It's what we feel as well," Emily added.

John hugged and kissed his three wives. Derek cleared his throat, and everyone looked at him.

"I know that deep down, there's still the Terminator inside of you all," he stated, "but I guess everyone here agrees with me that even if we're often jokingly refer to that part of your being, we never think that you would someday somehow turn against us. We know that you won't, so don't worry about it, okay? We trust you unconditionally, and we love you guys."

The three smiled in return and nodded. Derek had said all there was to say. Nobody else added something to it.

"I'm hungry," John stated after a moment. "I'm sure there are a few nice restaurants in Monte Carlo. How about we dress up really fancy and pay a visit to one of those restaurants?"

"Sounds like a plan," Savannah replied.

"Indeed," Sarah agreed and pulled out her cellphone. "I'll call Jesse and tell her to make a reservation for all of us."

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 14th, 2009 – 11:30 a.m.**

**Dallas, Texas**

Jeffrey Clark was lost in thoughts behind the wheel. He'd been sent on an errand – again. Ben needed computer parts – again. And because he wasn't supposed to buy them in Fort Worth near their hideout, he was driving to a store in the eastern suburbs of Dallas. It was such a waste of time. At least it meant he could get out for a while, away from being surrounded by cyborgs that had more and more begun to intimidate him. Their chips had been wiped clean, leaving only the basic programming, which had caused them to behave like robots. Only in the course of time would they develop something like a consciousness of their own again. Thus, they weren't able to accompany him on any errands. It was the last bit of freedom Jeffrey Clark had.

Ben had excluded him from whatever he was working on. All he knew was that it was some highly complicated calculations, some mysterious project for which he needed the chips of the kidnapped cyborgs as CPU's, since only they had the necessary computing power. What the project was about, Jeffrey didn't know.

As he drove along, lost in thoughts, slightly annoyed about the whole situation, he missed a red light. The last thing he consciously realized, was that a large pickup truck came from the left and t-boned him. Then his world became dark.

**-0-0-0-**

**_Author's notes:_**

**_\- Turned out that Shiva became a little bit like a Bond villain. Oh well… hope you were pleasantly entertained anyway :-)_**

**_\- Got rid of the villains quickly in order to move on again. I hope you liked the little trip to Switzerland. If so, leave a comment or a review :-)_**


	16. The East Wing Incident

**_CHAPTER 16: "THE EAST WING INCIDENT"_**

* * *

**_Wednesday, January 14th, 2009 – 11:45 p.m._**

**_Day 56 of our journey_**

_Now that we've settled the matter with Carver and Ziegler, we can finally devote ourselves again to what we actually planned this trip for: the exploration of the world, its beauty and its wonders – and having fun with each other, of course. And what better place to start with than the Mediterranean, the cradle of western civilization, the birthplace of our culture?_

_We'll leave Monaco early in the morning and will be arriving in Civitavecchia in Italy in the evening, where we'll spend the night. Civitavecchia is the nearest port to Rome where we can moor. The following day we're going to visit the Eternal City, hopefully this time without any more adventures. I keep my fingers crossed. If Anne had had her way, we'd also have had Florence and Tuscany on the program, but, as Derek put it in his charming way, we can't "stop at every milk churn on the way", which she had to grudgingly accept. _

_Visiting Rome involves a one-hour drive from the port, but the captain has organized a bus for us, so this should be only a minor inconvenience. However, we came to realize once again that traveling on the "Rising Star" may be like being in a floating five star hotel, but it doesn't only have advantages. Due to her size, the number of ports in which she can dock is limited._

_That's why there are some deviations from the originally planned route, which Isaak and Louise had worked out on paper while we were taking care of G.A.O.L. in Florida. Basically, we can only call at ports where cruise ships also dock. And since it's winter, the cruise industry in southern climes is at its peak, which means we have to deal with masses of other tourists at almost every place we go. But we're not complaining. _

_After Rome, we're finally going south again, towards the warmth. Everyone's anxiously awaiting it. Can't wait to get my tan back…_

**-0-**

**Thursday, January 15th, 2009 – 09:01 a.m.**

**Civitavecchia**

"You know what I would really find refreshing for a change?" Derek asked as everyone left the ship and entered the bus that would drive them to Rome.

"What?" a chorus of voices asked back.

"Just a normal, regular, undemanding, cozy, carefree, relaxed and untroubled day where we are nothing but tourists."

"Amen to that," Charley said.

"It would be nice," Sarah agreed.

"So, you three," Derek pointed at Cameron, Emily and Alison, "whatever you do, act like normal young women, okay? If you catch a pickpocket in the act, let them go without breaking their wrist. If you encounter a beggar, don't flash them your red eyes. Be normal. Stay out of trouble. You get the picture."

"We're not looking for trouble," Emily pointed out.

"Trouble is looking for us," Cameron declared.

"And it usually finds us," Alison added.

"And you," Derek addressed John, ignoring their replies, "if you see someone you think needs help, let it be. Or call the police. Don't interfere. Think of Jesse and the baby."

"Cute, Derek," Jesse said a little sourly, "I'm pregnant, not disabled."

"I can guarantee for nothing," John declared, "it's like Emily, Cameron and Alison already pointed out: trouble always seems to find us."

"That's because you walk through this world with eyes wide open and secure in the knowledge that ACE are protecting you," Sydney said.

"Who?"

"A C E," Lauren explained. "Short for Alison, Cameron and Emily. Was Danny's idea."

Everyone was looking at Danny. He held up his hands defensively.

"Hey, I was only suggesting to come up with something snappy, since _'the three'_ or _'the girls' _can be misunderstood and saying all their names all the time can be annoying on the long run."

"But those are our names," Emily pointed out. "How hard can it be to say them, and how can it be annoying?"

"Consider it a nickname," Jody said, "one that refers to the three of you. ACE… I mean, you are the aces up our sleeves, aren't you? What do you think, John?"

"I have to admit, I kinda like it," he replied, receiving frowns from his wives, "but only if we really refer to the three of you. After all, you always emphasize how you are one, aren't you?"

"In that case, we should be called JACE," Cameron remarked with a smirk, "short for John, Alison, Cameron and Emily. After all, we four are one, right?"

"Let's not overdo it," Sarah remarked. "But I have to agree, ACE has got something. It's to the point, and everyone knows who it refers to. Besides, you three form a sub group within our team."

"Because we're not human?" Alison asked.

"That's a fact you can't deny."

"Just think of it," Sydney added, "_'Here come ACE'_… _'ACE to the rescue'_. It's like a brand name. You have to admit, it sounds cool."

The three still looked skeptical.

"It sounds like a vitamin drink," Cameron pointed out.

"I have an idea," John said, "let's try it for a day. If we think we like it – if _you_ like it, that is – we'll stick with it."

"One day?" Cameron asked.

"Yes."

"Hmmm," Emily uttered. "You mean until midnight or for twenty-four hours?"

"Don't be so pedantic," Anne said, "that's my job."

"Let's say until tomorrow after breakfast," John suggested.

The three cyborg girls looked at each other.

"Deal," they finally said in unison.

"ACE have agreed," Danny commented, "awesome."

"You can always rely on ACE," Allie remarked.

"Indeed, you can," Savannah added.

Everyone was laughing.

"But don't overdo it," Cameron requested.

"How can we overdo it?"

"By saying AC minus E or something like that, when you only refer to Alison and Cam," Emily explained.

"Yeah, okay," John agreed, "That would be stupid."

"Thanks, J," Emily said and nudged him.

* * *

The trip to Rome was tightly planned. The day's program included the Colosseum, the Vatican, the Castel Sant'Angelo, the Spanish Steps, the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon and the Imperial fora.

"I suppose there won't be time for the catacombs?" Kevin asked.

"No," Anne replied, "that would need a whole day in itself."

"Too bad."

"I know what bones and skulls look like," Derek stated, "they were lying in the open in the millions after Judgement Day. No need to see more."

"Many people hid in the Catacombs during Judgement Day," Jesse added. "A lot of people survived in Rome and Paris that way."

"You had contact to them?" Sarah asked.

"Skynet couldn't control the radio waves," Derek explained with a smirk. "Good, old analog tech. The medium wave came back to honor, as did the Morse code and old encryption techniques from the Cold War."

"So, you communicated like in the movie _'Independence Day'_?" Jason asked.

"Yeah, like that," Derek confirmed. "Although it took months and sometimes years to contact the other parts of the world. But in the end, we had established a planet-wide, coded communication network Skynet had no access to. And they'd all accepted John Connor as their leader."

"Using radio is how we found that despite all of its efforts, Skynet was only able to wipe out half of the human race," Savannah added. "Three billion had still survived when all nukes had exploded."

"I once read that the USA and Russia alone have more than enough nukes to destroy the world several times over," Jody said. "How come so many survived?"

"Skynet didn't have access to all nukes," Derek explained. "It only had access to the networked warheads in the missile silos or on land-based mobile platforms. It didn't have access to the nuclear submarines yet, and it didn't have access to the nukes in the bombers either. Many of the warheads were also stored in bunkers. Judgement Day only took place using the short, medium and long range rockets. These were aimed at the major cities. In the countryside, most people survived."

"Some survivors were even able to get their hands on remaining military technology," Jesse added. "The _'Jimmy Carter'_ for instance. Skynet has never been able to take over all of the military technology. Our problem wasn't that we didn't have enough weapons but that we lacked people and crews to man them. That's why Future John got the idea of using reprogrammed Terminators as officers on submarines."

"Guys, can we please stop talking about the war?" Jody asked. "You sound like my grandpa when he reminisced about D-Day."

"All these dark thoughts should be forgotten," Olga added, "especially when we know the war will never happen now."

"She's right," Charley agreed, "as much as I sometimes like to remember old-time stories, these refer to events that have been erased from future history."

"That's easy for you to say," Derek grumbled, "the memories are still burned into my brain and they still haunt me."

"I could change that for you," Alison said, "I could relieve you of the pain. If you just let me..."

"DON'T YOU DARE! Stay away from my head, do you hear?"

"But you just said…"

"Those memories are part of who I am, even if they hurt. Without them, I wouldn't be the Derek you…" He paused and frowned. "Wait a minute, didn't you tell us months ago that you couldn't fuck with our brains anymore, that we're immune to your chemical messengers!? Was that a lie or what?"

Alison just smiled.

"Fooled you again... you're too easy to trigger."

Derek groaned.

"She did it again," he said. "John, can't you just forbid them to pull my leg? I dunno, order them to stop doing it."

"I could try," John replied grinning, "but that doesn't mean they would comply. They may be machines, but first and foremost they're women. And when have women ever let their husbands tell them anything?"

"Oh, we do what you tell us to do," Alison said with an innocent smile and kissed him.

"But only under certain circumstances," Emily added and nibbled his ear.

"Uh-oh," Anne said, "no details please."

"Yes… details please," Savannah contradicted.

"No, those circumstances should stay in their bedroom," Sarah stated sternly.

Everyone chuckled.

"Oh boy," Derek sighed, "this bus drive is going to be longer than I expected."

**-0-**

Surprisingly enough, the day seemed to pass by without any incidents. The team was able to complete the sightseeing program undisturbed. While being at the Colosseum, Lauren speculated about what it would have been like if cyborgs had taken part in the Gladiator fights. Alison's answer was monosyllabic: "Short."

They had lunch at a typical Italian trattoria and were chatting away in a relaxed and happy mood while watching the hustle and bustle outside on the Roman streets. It was a little warmer than in Barcelona but still not warm enough to just run around in tee shirts.

"How much further south do you think we'll have to go before we can finally tan naked on the sun deck again?" Jody asked. "I look pale already."

"You look fine," Jason complimented his girlfriend. "Everyone looks fine."

"I suppose when we reach the southern tip of Italy, that might be possible again," Savannah said. "And talking about being pale, look at me, I'm a redhead. I'll always look like a china doll."

"You know," Alison said, "if the only purpose of lying in the sun for hours is to become tanned, I could help you with that. I could give you a permanent tan."

"We know that," Jody replied, "but that's not the point."

"What is the point then?"

"Having an excuse for lazing around," John remarked with a smirk.

Some of the girls rolled their eyes.

"Yeah, sure, John," Allie said sarcastically. "We'd be sooo busy with doing stuff if we wouldn't be lying in the sun all the time."

"The whole idea of a vacation is to laze around," Jody added.

"Not to mention that we have a crew of forty men and women who'll fulfill all our wishes almost instantly," Savannah added. "There's simply nothing left to do. We can't even leave our suites for five minutes without somebody tidying it up behind us. Not that I'm complaining…"

"We haven't used the bowling alley yet," Derek pointed out.

"Or the squash court," Charley added.

"Or the jet skis," Kevin said, "Jason, Danny and I want to try them out soon."

"There'll also be a few nice diving spots on the way," John remarked, "I'd really like to try out what we learned in Jamaica."

"See?" Sarah asked, addressing the girls. "Enough to do. For example, Charley and I are having a squash match tonight."

"We are?" Charley asked surprised, receiving a nudge from his wife, "uh… yeah, yeah… we are… haven't played squash in years."

While they were talking, two priests wearing cassocks passed by.

"Forty-three and forty-four," Emily remarked.

"What?" Sydney asked.

"We've been counting Catholic priests," Cameron explained.

"The city is full of them," Alison added.

"Yes, one could assume so," said Anne, "since, as you know, the Vatican state is located here. I hope you can behave yourselves when we visit it."

"While we're here," Emily remarked, "wouldn't it be a nice gesture to visit Jack Visioli?"

"That bishop?" Anne asked.

"Yes," Cameron replied. "the archbishop we met with."

"Sure, why not?" Sarah stated ironically. "We're going to invade his office or his apartment within the Vatican with the whole team. Surely, nobody will notice or ask any questions."

"That's a stupid idea," Derek agreed, "by now, probably everyone in the Vatican knows that he's been in contact with us. Better leave him alone."

"Agreed," John said. "And why should we visit him anyway? Just to say hello? Come on…"

"Who is Jack Visioli?" Olga asked.

John and the others explained to her that Archbishop Giacomo "Jack" Visioli had been an emissary of the Vatican who'd met incognito with John, the three cyborg girls, Catherine, Savannah and Allie at Kenneth Fletcher's house in the Hollywood Hills. He was very impressed by the three and had made sure that the Catholic Church basically recognized the existence of artificial life, accepting it as a part of God's creation.

"So, that is why they suddenly were so open-minded about it?" Olga asked after they'd finished. "Everyone was surprised by that development."

"Yes," Derek confirmed, "don't underestimate the fact that the Catholic Church urgently wants to polish its image in the world. ACE provided the right opportunity at the right time to distract somewhat from all the affairs and scandals."

Olga nodded.

"I see. Everyone was wondering what had happened. Shortly afterwards, the Russian Orthodox Church shared this position."

"Yeah, once the Vatican had started with it, most of the others followed," John said nodding. "Jack Visioli explained that all of the major religions exchange information regularly. By now, most of them have recognized the existence of intelligent life. Not everyone is happy with that, of course…"

"The Evangelicals and the Mormons in North America are still struggling with it," Anne pointed out. "So do some of the Muslims. There's still a lively discussion going on behind the scenes. But all in all, we're on the right track, I guess."

"Which is a surprise, to be honest," Sarah added. "Normally it takes decades, if not longer for them to adapt to such fundamental changes."

"We created facts," Savannah stated. "ACE left them no choice. The public opinion is clearly on their side, so the churches are swimming with the stream. After all, they don't have anything to lose but much to gain by recognizing cyborgs as alternate life forms."

Olga nodded.

"I agree," she said, "even in Russia, people have been talking only about those cyborg girls from Los Angeles for months."

"I suppose we and the financial crisis are still the headliners," Jesse added. "And that's why it would be a stupid move to visit Jack Visioli."

"Oh well, it was just an idea," Emily replied, holding up her hands defensively. "I thought it would be interesting to know how he's been doing."

"I agree," John said, "but if we should ever meet again, then better in a similar way as the first time."

They finished their lunch, then resumed their tourist program.

**-0-**

**Thursday, January 15th, 2009 – 05:25 a.m.**

**Dallas, Texas**

Slowly, Jeffrey Clark opened his eyes. It was dark, and he was lying on a bed. His head felt fuzzy. There was an annoying noise, a beeping in regular intervals… BEEP… BEEP… BEEP… BEEP… BEEP... BEEP... BEEP...

Where was he? And more importantly, what happened? The last thing he remembered was that Ben had sent him on an errand to get more computer parts. He tried to sit up, but his body didn't follow the commands of his brain. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move. Then, as his mind became clearer, he started feeling the pain. His body hurt all over.

The beeping accelerated.

He noticed that he had a mask on his face that provided him with oxygen. A respirator? Did that beeping noise belong to a heartbeat monitor? Was he in a hospital? But why? What had happened, how did he end up here? And where exactly was _here_? There were at least a dozen hospitals in the area. Trying to lift his right arm, he noticed that a cannula was attached there and that he was apparently hooked to an I.V. There was also a clamp on his index finger. Suddenly, he heard quick footsteps. Then the door was opened, and the light was switched on. Blinded, Jeffrey squinted his eyes.

"He's awake," a female voice said.

"Go and inform that annoying woman," a male voice instructed.

"Yes, doctor," the nurse replied and left the room.

Jeffrey tried to speak but his mouth was dry, and he couldn't utter a word.

"Just try to relax," the doctor said. "You were in a car accident. You're very lucky to be alive. Without the side airbags, you probably would be dead."

Jeffrey made some questioning noises.

"Try not to speak, Mister Clark. Your body is full of drugs. You're suffering from several broken bones, a pierced lung, lots of cuts and bruises all over your body, and a minor craniocerebral trauma. The fire department had to cut you out of your car. They had to re-animate you on site and…"

Jeffrey didn't pay attention to what the doctor said. He had only registered two words: _Mister Clark_. They knew who he was. Of course they knew, they would have taken his fingerprints. He closed his eyes. It was over. They got him. It was his last thought before he lost consciousness again.

* * *

There was a tense atmosphere in the office of the hospital director. To his right in front of the desk stood Sonya Hawkins, Zoe Kruger and Norberto Cervantez, and to his left were the chief physician, the ward physician and the Dallas police chief. The unfortunate hospital director was caught in the middle between the two arguing parties.

"What do you mean you want the other patients moved?" asked the ward physician in outrage.

"I want them out of the way and in a safe place," Sonya explained.

"That's impossible, some of them are in intensive care."

"Jeffrey Clark is the only one on that floor who's been deemed unfit for transport. We checked the files on our way here."

"You checked the… what?" the chief physician asked flabbergasted. "Have you hacked yourself into our system or what?"

"Or what, yes."

"What exactly are you expecting to happen?" the police chief enquired.

"That's classified, sorry."

"Classified? What the...? For God's sake, I'm the highest authority in this city after the mayor!"

"Not while I'm in town," Sonya deadpanned. "I'm head of the C.S.I.S. for six more days, and that makes me the highest authority in this city when it comes to Jeffrey Clark. But if you'd like to talk to my successor, feel free to do so. She's standing next to me."

She looked at Zoe who tried a more appeasing tone to smooth the waves.

"Look, we don't know what will happen," she said calmly, "but there is reason to believe that an attempt will be made to free Jeffrey Clark - or to kill him. We don't know for sure."

"We have SWAT teams for that," the police chief pointed out.

"That'd be like throwing a goldfish into a shark tank," Sonya remarked dryly.

"It has to do with those robots, hasn't it? I can't stand all this secrecy about them. We're being kept in the dark, as if we were little children."

"You know everything you need to know," Sonya replied, "it is for your own protection. We need the sixth floor of the east wing deserted, all personnel and all patients have to be out of the way. The same goes for security. Relocate everyone to the west wing. That part of the hospital, including the emergency room, can work regularly."

"What do you think you can you do better than my men?" the police chief asked indignantly. "Hell, what can the three of you do better that a whole SWAT team cannot?"

"We won't remain only three," Norberto Cervantez replied coolly. "reinforcements are on the way and will arrive soon. A complete commando unit of the C.S.I.S. will arrive during the night. We were just the first to be here, thanks to a private jet that's always at our disposal. We don't know how much time we have, to be honest, hence the safety measures Ms. Hawkins required."

"And what if one of the other patients needs medical help?" the hospital director asked. "You cannot simply shut down a whole hospital wing."

"We only want a clear way between the main entrance and the sixth floor," Zoe stated. "Nobody must be in the way. The rest of the hospital won't be effected."

"I can pull rank if you insist on opposing me," Sonya added, "but I don't want to. I count on your insight and that you understand we only want to save lives and protect both the patients and the personnel of this hospital."

The police chief scoffed. But before he could reply, the door burst open and a nurse entered, completely out of breath.

"He's awake," she said. "Mr. Clark has woken up."

"Good," Sonya stated. "The sooner we can interrogate him, the better."

"He's on painkillers and sedatives," the ward physician said, "and he's beaten up quite badly. He won't be available for questioning until tonight at the earliest."

"Then we will wait until tonight," Sonya replied, "but until then, I want the whole sixth floor in the east wing cleared and all personnel in that area relocated. Is that understood?"

Without waiting for an answer, she, Zoe and Norberto left the office.

"What a fucking bitch," the police chief exclaimed.

"Can't you do something about it?" the chief physician asked.

"I'm afraid she's in charge. I therefore cannot disobey her. However, she only said that all personnel and security forces should be withdrawn. She didn't specifically mention that we mustn't bring our own forces in for backup."

"That's a risky game, chief," said the hospital director. "What if she's right, and your men are really in danger when they enter the hospital?"

"I'm not gonna let some fancy woman from Washington tell me how to run things in my city. I'll have a SWAT team on standby by 1800 hours tonight. And I'll make sure Hawkins doesn't find out about this."

"I hope you know what you're doing, chief."

"I do. Damn federals are not going to take over my town."

**-0-**

**Thursday, January 15th, 2009 – 06:51 p.m.**

**Civitavecchia**

Derek let himself fall into one of the convenient armchairs in the main lounge of the yacht with a glass of Scotch in his hand.

"We actually made it," he said with a sigh of relief, "thank God. No trouble, no adventure, no complications. Just a nice, interesting day in Rome."

"Don't be so dramatic," Jesse said and sat down next to her husband. "Yes, it was a beautiful day, but we had beautiful days in Puerto Vallarta, in St Lucia, in Madeira, in Casablanca, in Marrakesh, in Saint Petersburg, in Hamburg, in..."

"Okay, okay…" Derek interrupted her. "Not all of them were bad and thankfully we weren't much involved in most of the stuff. Still… a quiet, uneventful day for all of us was what we all needed, I suppose. Hopefully, we can enjoy his voyage now without any further inconveniences. Now all I need is a nice dinner, then a brandy… or maybe one of those tequilas Isaak bought from that bar woman in Mexico. Maybe smoking a cigar with Charley. Nice and quiet. I…"

"**EMILYYYYY!"**

The shout came from outside and almost made him spill his drink.

"What the fuck?"

They all jumped up and ran outside, looking over the railing of the sun deck. There, down on the pier, waving at them, stood a young, brunette woman, wearing glasses. Apparently, she'd been arguing with one of the crew members who guarded the gangway.

"Louise?" Emily asked.

"YES! CAN I COME ABOARD? THIS JERK DOESN'T BELIEVE I BELONG TO YOU!"

"Well, yes… by all means," John said.

Emily ran down the stairs and towards the entrance of the ship, and John gave the crew member the OK sign to let Louise on board.

"Where does _she_ come from?" Savannah asked. "Wasn't she supposed to be in Australia with that guy, that beach volleyball player from Florida… what was his name?"

"Avery Bailey," Cameron answered. "And yes, this is an unexpected visit."

"I hope she doesn't mean any more trouble," Derek remarked grimly and let himself fall into the plush armchair again.

"Relax," John said, "she lived with us already, she's part of the team. Mom, you better tell the captain we have another passenger. I have a feeling she won't be flying back tonight."

Sarah nodded and left towards the bridge of the ship.

"Who's that girl?" Olga asked.

"Louise is, uh… a very close friend of ours, especially of Emily's," John explained. "She saved her from a group of psychopathic serial killers who tortured and raped her for months. Since then, the two have been, uh… friends with benefits."

"What? But I thought Emily's your…"

"Long story. We'll fill you in later."

Emily re-entered the lounge, happily pulling Louise behind her. It took a moment until everyone had hugged and kissed her welcome.

"I've finally caught up with you," she said happily. "When I arrived in Monte Carlo, you were already gone again."

"You could have called in advance," Sarah suggested.

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

"That you have achieved," Alison said. "What are you doing here? Where's Avery?"

Louise's face became sad.

"Back home in Florida," she said, "we had a falling-out."

"Oh no," John said. "You have to tell us everything."

"Does that mean I can stay with you?"

John looked around but saw no objection coming up.

"Of course, you can. But you might have to share a suite with Olga, if that's okay for you."

"Who's Olga?"

"I'm Olga," the Russian model said and stretched out her hand, "I'm from Russia."

"Oh wow," Louise replied, shaking her hand with an astonished face, "you and Alison look absolutely identical!"

"What else is new?" Derek asked with a sigh and gulped down his whisky.

* * *

Over dinner, Olga was filled in with details about Louise's sad past. Emily told her how she'd found Louise in that cabin in the woods, how she'd freed her and made short shrift with the serial killers, causing Louise to fall in love with Emily – and vice versa.

They explained to her that Louise used to be blonde but had dyed her hair brown and put on fake glasses so that she would not be recognized by reporters. She had also changed her identity with the help of John Henry. Her name was no longer Louise Quinn, but Louise Henson. Her parents had also been given a new identity and now lived in a house in Laguna Beach that had belonged to a Gray, Pablo Gonzalez, who had been turned into a mindless street whore by Alison as punishment for Emily's suffering. Catherine had bought the abandoned house, including staff and everything else, at a foreclosure auction and given it to Louise's parents for a symbolic rent of a hundred dollars a month.

In return, Louise was updated on most things that had happened since they left Long Beach, including the story of Ben Bridger and Jeffrey Clark, the adventures in Madeira, Morocco and Scotland, the arrival of Future Alison and the upgrades she brought with her, meeting Olga in Saint Petersburg, the secret drone production in Goslar. And finally they told her about Brandon Carver and Ludwig Ziegler and their respective demises.

"Wow," she commented, "you really can't be left alone without getting into trouble or being involved in some dangerous adventure, can you?"

John shrugged.

"It's the…" he began.

"… Connor curse," the rest of the team finished in a chorus, then everyone broke out into laughter.

"Seriously, John," Derek said while peeling a banana from the fruit basket on the table, "we're sick of hearing that."

"Well, what is _your_ explanation then for all the things that happen to us?"

"I think you're a nexus," his uncle replied, biting into the banana, "a kind of anchor in time that everything revolves around. You act like a magnet to anything that's trouble."

"Wow, that's deep, Derek," remarked Anne, "complete bullshit… but deep."

"Do you have a better explanation?"

"I hold to the old spy wisdom that persistent bad luck is a result of incompetence, and persistent luck is a result of skill."

"So… that would mean we get into trouble because we're incompetent, and we get out of it again every time because we're skillful?"

"Something like that."

Everyone laughed again. Then Louise looked at Emily.

"So… your whole body has changed now because of that upgrade thing or what?"

"Not on the outside, but yes," Emily confirmed. "I'm a whole new cyborg inside. Literally."

"Wow… can I… I mean… is there a way to see it?"

"Not without cutting into my flesh and peeling it up."

"Eeew, no… gross."

"And not exactly a topic for the dinner table," Sarah added. "If you wanna show her your new endoskeleton, get some privacy."

"We can now swim together," Emily announced happily, "I'm no longer sinking like an anvil."

"That would be cool. And can you, I mean, can you also heal others, like Alison can?"

"No… but I also have nanobots inside me that can heal my flesh. And I have much more physical power and can kill with electric discharges."

"How much stronger are you now?"

"Five times stronger than before."

"That's so cool. You can really kick ass now…"

"I could kick asses before… but why would I do that?"

Again, everyone laughed. It took Louise a moment to realize that Emily had actually understood the remark but simply made fun of her.

"I'm so happy to be with you again," she said and took Emily's hand.

"Now it's your turn to tell. What went wrong between you and Avery?"

Louise lowered her eyes and sighed.

"Have you ever had the feeling that something is going too fast for you, that someone wants more than you're willing to give, that you basically want the same thing but are going at different speeds?"

"Yes, I can relate to that," Emily replied and looked at John, hinting at their long struggle before they finally got together.

"Although in our case," Alison explained, "it's that John was too slow for me, and I wanted more than he was willing to give."

"But in the end, we got together," Cameron added.

"So… Avery wants more than you're willing to give?" Lauren asked.

"Yes… he, uh… he proposed to me."

Astonished silence.

"What!?" Sarah then asked. "After just a few weeks?"

Louise shrugged.

"He says he found the woman of his life in me. But I'm not ready for that. I've hardly overcome my experiences of the last year… you know… what those guys did to me…"

"I'm sure he understands that," John said, "he's not a jerk, is he?"

"I suspect his family is behind this. They're ultra-hardcore southerners, I'm telling you. Unless you're engaged within two months, they say it can't be serious."

"Wow... But they know your history, right?"

"Of course they do. But this has rather strengthened their belief that what I need is the loving care in the bosom of a large, loving family. And they don't think I'll get that in Los Angeles. They don't know about you guys, of course. Also not about Emily and my relationship with her. I think they'd go ballistic if they knew."

"But isn't Avery on your side and able to stand up to his family?" Sarah asked.

"That's the problem. He's having difficulties with that. He doesn't want to hurt or offend anyone."

"I see," Emily said, "so you ran home to Los Angeles."

"In a nutshell, yes. I stayed there for two weeks. My parents are so happy with the whole new situation – new house, new jobs… new pet dog."

"How's Eve, by the way?" John asked. "Does she miss us?"

"Oh yes, definitely. She still understands most of what humans say to her, that hasn't changed. And she's sad that you didn't take her with you."

"A dog always causes trouble when you want to enter a foreign country. Eve couldn't stay aboard all the time, she wouldn't have enough run. And she also couldn't go ashore."

"Yes, we tried to explain that to her, but I think that was too much for her to comprehend. After all, she's just a dog, despite her, uh… human past."

"And then you decided you didn't like it there anymore and came here?" Jody asked.

"Yes. Also, Avery kept calling me, but I didn't want to talk to him. Thankfully he doesn't know my parents' address, otherwise he would have surely come there. But after two weeks, I had enough of being alone with my parents and a dog. So, I visited Isaak and asked him where you are at the moment. He gave me one of his credit cards, so I could book the flights. I just hope I'm not annoying or inconveniencing you in any way."

"Rubbish," Charley said. "If it hadn't been for Avery, you'd have come with us from the start."

"And we've left the option open from the beginning that you can join us at any time," Sarah added.

Louise beamed.

"Thank you. I have to say, sitting here with all of you… it feels like I've truly come home now."

Suddenly, John's cellphone rang.

"It's Catherine," he said after looking at it, took the call, put it on speaker and placed the phone on the table. "Hello Catherine, are you still enjoying the snow in St. Moritz?"

"_No. As a matter of fact, Tess and I left early in the morning. We're currently in a car and on our way to the Dallas Memorial Hospital."_

"Dallas? As in Dallas, Texas?"

_"Yes. Apparently, Jeffrey Clark was involved in a car accident and has been brought to that hospital. Zoe and Norberto are already there, so is Sonya. They're making sure that nobody gets access to him."_

There was a moment of silence.

"Wow," John then said. "That's bad news for Jeffrey Clark but good news for us. Dallas, huh? Any traces of Ben Bridger?"

_"Not yet. The plan is to get Jeffrey Clark to a secure facility a.s.a.p. We think it's possible Bridger will try to free him or, if he fails to do so, kill him. After all, he has five triple-eights at his disposal. The only problem is that Clark is seriously injured and currently unfit for transport. So, the four of us will function as his bodyguards until the danger is over."_

"The four of you should be sufficient protection," Sarah remarked. "Just make sure the hospital doesn't collapse."

"_We won't allow that,"_ Catherine replied. _"Tess, Zoe, Norberto and I should be able to stop them. Don't forget Zoe also received Future Alison's upgrade. Clark has been isolated. Only one nurse and one doctor are allowed to see him under our strict supervision."_

"Isn't it kinda risky to allow Tess access to him?" Derek asked. "Doesn't she want to kill him?"

"_Tess and I had a long talk on the way here," _Catherine replied,_ "I could convince her to postpone her killing plan for the time being. First, we'll interrogate Clark. Maybe he's even eligible for the Witness Security Program. It depends on how cooperative he'll be and if he can provide important information. In any case, he'll be able to tell us where their hiding place is."_

"What are the chances that Bridger hasn't noticed his disappearance yet?" John asked.

_"Very low, tending toward zero. The accident happened at noon yesterday local time. That's why we have to hurry before Bridger or one of his Triple-Eights find him."_

"We'll keep our fingers crossed. Keep us informed, will ya?"

"_Of course, John. As soon as something happens or we learn something important, I'll inform you."_

"Thank you."

"_We'll stay in touch. Bye."_

"Bye."

The team members looked at each other.

"Talking about having a bad day," Anne finally said. "I suppose Ludwig Ziegler wasn't the only one who ran out of luck yesterday."

**-0-**

**Thursday, January 15th, 2009 – 07:52 p.m.**

**Fort Worth**

The Triple Eight entered the basement in Benjamin Bridger's hideout.

"What is it, Number One?" Bridger asked while looking on an extremely complex three-dimensional object that rotated on a monitor.

"We were able to locate him," Number One answered robotically, not a hint of personality in his voice. "We hacked into the police computer. Jeffrey Clark had a car crash. He is now in the Dallas Memorial Hospital. The police identified him by his fingerprints. He'll survive but has been deemed unfit for transport."

"Dammit!" Ben Bridger exclaimed. "Obtaining the parts wasn't that necessary."

"Then why did you allow him to leave?"

"Jeff was getting cabin fever, he needed to get out. Still, I shouldn't have sent him on that errand."

Benjamin Bridger had noticed that Jeff went missing after he hadn't returned after four hours. But there was nothing he could do. The calculations were running, and he needed all six Triple-Eight chips for them. He himself couldn't leave either, because he had to monitor the process and the system. The last thing they needed now was another house fire because of overheated electronic devices. So he'd had no choice but to wait until the last calculations were finished. When that was done, he'd pulled four of the six Triple-Eight chips out of the sockets that were connected to the computer's main board, re-inserted them into their bodies and gave them the task to search for Jeff.

"I should have sent one of you with him. Calculations might have needed longer but five chips would have done as well."

"We're currently not programmed to interact sufficiently with humans," Number One pointed out, "accompanying him might have revealed what I am."

"True," Bridger admitted.

"If they make him talk, they'll come here."

"I know that!"

Benjamin Bridger thought about his options. But there weren't really many of them. They would make Jeff talk, that was for sure. It had been wise to keep him out of everything, so at least he couldn't tell them anything about the project. Still, this hiding place was no longer safe.

"Take Numbers Two, Three and Four with you and go to that hospital. I'll keep Number Five here to help me erase all traces and load everything into the van. The calculations are complete. We'll just get out of here a few days earlier than planned. I'll have to rebuild the system at another place to complete the design, but one chip will suffice to do that. I did what I came here for, that's the main thing."

"Do you want us to free Jeffrey Clark?"

"You said yourself he's unfit for transport."

"Then what do you want us to do at the hospital?"

"We have no choice... I want you to terminate him."

"Yes, Sir."

The Triple-Eight turned around and walked up the stairs and out of the basement. Bridger turned back to his computer.

"I wish it would have ended differently, Jeff," he said to himself, "but fate has scotched us."

He pulled one of the two remaining chips out of its socket and re-inserted it into the head of the Triple-Eight's body that was slumped over in a chair next to him. Fifteen seconds later, it had rebooted.

"Number Five," Bridger said.

"Yes, Sir?" The Triple-Eight asked and stood at attention.

"The calculations are finished. Now help me to leave this place. I need to get the hell out of here and acquire a place where I can work on the construction of the device. Will probably take a while to find a place that's big and remote enough."

"If I may ask, where are Numbers One, Two, Three and Four?"

"They're on an errand. Don't worry about them. When… or rather **_if_** they come back, they'll remain here. I don't need them anymore."

"Yes, Sir."

"And number Five?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"When we're done, you'll remain here as well. I won't be able to take you with me, I have to be fast and flexible, you'd only slow me down."

"I understand, Sir."

Ben knew that the opposition would expect him to try and free or kill Jeff, so they'd be waiting at the hospital. After all, they had enough time to prepare by now. Hence. the chances of the four Triple-Eights returning were slim. But that didn't matter, the calculations were complete, they'd fulfilled their purpose. This way, he'd kill two birds with one stone. From now on, he would work alone, and that was much easier and better. Ben Bridger kind of regretted to leave Jeff behind this way. But all things considered, this was an elegant solution to get rid of unnecessary ballast. No time to get sentimental.

**-0-**

Slowly, Jeffrey Clark opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, and his mouth felt dry.

"There, as you insisted," a male voice said, "I woke him up for you but only under protest."

"Your concerns are noted, doctor," replied a resolute female voice. "You may leave now."

"Ms. Hawkins, I…"

"What we have to discuss with Mr. Clark, concerns national security. You don't have the required security clearance. Please leave now."

"He's still my patient, no matter what you say!" the doctor protested.

"And he'll continue being your patient once we questioned him," another female voice said. "We assure you that we won't harm him in any way."

Jeff knew that voice. He'd heard it before.

"Wa…" he tried to utter.

All faces turned toward him.

"Wa… ter…"

"He's thirsty," said the doctor, "should I...?"

"Leave that to us," said the familiar female voice and Jeff recognized Zoe Kruger as his vision became clearer.

Next to her stood another woman whom he also knew from the news, Sonya Hawkins, head of the C.S.I.S. and future National Security Advisor. There were another man and another woman in the room. The man was tall and wore a dark suit, and the blond, very attractive and rather busty woman wore a red leather outfit. Jeff didn't recognize them. Zoe reached for a glass of water and carefully brought it to his mouth. He drank in greedy gulps.

"Do you think you're fit to answer a few questions, Mr. Clark?" Sonya Hawkins asked.

Jeff nodded.

"Good. I have to say, you and your friend Benjamin Bridger have kept us pretty busy. I hope you're proud of yourself for devoting so many resources to the search and costing the taxpayer so much money. On the other hand, that's what happens when you commit a capital crime. Or rather seven capital crimes in your case."

"I… I'm not… a murderer," Jeff croaked.

"And why do you think that, Mr. Clark?" Zoe asked. "Do lives only count for you when they're human lives?"

Jeff looked at Zoe and remembered what Ben had told him about her.

"You... you can't be trusted," he stated. "I know what you are."

Sonya and Zoe looked at each other.

"Is that so? Did your friend Bridger tell you that?"

Jeff nodded.

"You killed at least two cyborgs," the blonde woman in the red leather outfit said, and Jeff noticed she was very angry, forcing herself to remain calm. "You can't talk your way out of that."

"And who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Tess, that's all you need to know."

"And this here is Agent Norberto Cervantez," Sonya added, "We're all working for the C.S.I.S. Tess and Norberto have been dispatched here to escort you to a safe place once you're fit for transport."

Jeff scoffed.

"Safe place… right. Nice euphemism for jail."

"Let me state very clearly that you're in serious trouble, Mr. Clark," Sonya Hawkins continued, "surely you deserve a prison sentence. But whether you actually have to serve it is entirely up to you. If you want to have a chance of getting out of this mess, then you better start working together with us."

Jeff didn't reply to that and demonstratively looked away.

"We want to know where Benjamin Bridger is," Zoe said.

"And we also want to know what he did with the chips from the Triple-Eights," Tess added.

"I committed no crime," Jeff replied defensively. "There is no law that prohibits killing cyborgs. One can only murder humans."

"You filthy, little…" Tess exclaimed and made a step forward, but Norberto held her back.

"The little shit isn't worth it," he said to her.

"If you wanted to kill me," Jeff stated, "you would have already done so. I'm only alive because I can give you information. After I've given that to you, you'll kill me. So, why should I talk?"

Sonya bent forward over the bed and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Because if you refuse to cooperate, you'll end up in court, I'll see to that. You're forgetting that it wasn't revealed to the public that those men were cyborgs. Nobody knows that except you and us. Which means you're up to your neck in shit now, because no judge or jury will ever know that it wasn't humans you killed. They won't know that when they discuss if you're guilty of being a serial killer."

"But they weren't human! And that's what I'll say!"

"Oh, so you want to go down in history as a crazy fanatic who randomly murdered people because he thought they were cyborgs?" Sonya asked with a smirk. "We have statements from the neighbors, friends and colleagues of the seven cyborgs you and Bridger killed. None of them has any doubt that they were anything else but human, and they will state that in court, if necessary. I'm afraid your testimony would be contrary to that of dozens of others."

"Tell you what, Mr. Clark," Zoe said, "when in doubt, we'll present medical records that will clearly prove that the victims were human. We'll produce the necessary evidence. Evidence that will mark you forever as a serial killer."

"I killed nobody! I only removed two chips! TWO! They're only dead when their chips are destroyed, right? Simply removing the chip doesn't kill them. I wasn't there when Ben reprogrammed them!"

"One of the chips self-destructed upon removal," Zoe said, "which makes you responsible for at least one death."

"Ben didn't tell me that could happen!"

"And for the others you are at least guilty of accessory to serial murder in six cases. Still enough for you to end up in prison for life."

"Then it's true what Ben said…"

"And what did he say?" Sonya asked.

"That I'd be fucked if you catch me because you play dirty! That you would set me under pressure in order to betray him! But I'll remain steadfast, no matter what!"

"Apparently, you're fundamentally mistaken," said Norberto, "_we_ are the good guys. Benjamin Bridger is an escaped criminal who survived only because you fished his chip out of the ocean. We don't know what lies he's been feeding you, but you surely know what happened in Fredericksburg a few months ago. You should have realized by now that you're on the wrong side, you can't be that stupid. Frankly, I'm surprised you're still alive, now that Bridger has a body again. My guess is that he needed you for something. What was it? Being his servant? Running errands for him? Were you his human pet?"

"Ben is my friend!"

Zoe looked at him intensely.

"While cyborgs can definitely be friends or more," she said, exchanging a short look with Sonya, "they can also become criminals. Ben Bridger was willing to sacrifice thousands of lives in Fredericksburg, he has attempted mass murder! Only with a lot of luck could we avoid that someone was harmed during the raid on God's Army of Light. He escaped, leaving everybody to die. Benjamin Bridger is dangerous. He's nobody's friend!"

Sonya noticed that Jeff seemed to have become insecure.

"Come on," she said in a friendly tone that was unusual for her, "has he threatened you? Is that why you're still with him? You can tell us, it's over now, one way or the other."

Jeff didn't reply to that.

"He won't come to free you, if that's what you're hoping for," Zoe added.

"How do you know that?"

"By now he'll have noticed for sure that you've disappeared. And he'll also know by now which hospital you were taken to. It would be a strategic error to come here. He'll know we'll be waiting for him. If I were him, I'd pack my things and leave before we got you talking."

Jeff hesitated for a moment.

"Come on," Sonya said, still in that surprisingly friendly tone, "you have it in your hands what happens to you. Talk to us, we can help you."

"He… he made it clear to me that he'd never let me go," Jeff said, "that even if I was captured, he'd make sure I'm freed – because we're friends."

"You're kinda naïve, Jeff, aren't you?" Zoe asked.

She sighed and sat down next to him on the bed. For a second, she let her eyes flash red. Jeff tried to shift his body but couldn't move. Suddenly, he looked very uncomfortable with having a cyborg sitting so close to him.

"As you probably already know, I'm one of them," she said jovially. "I've lived here for more than twenty years, I'm indistinguishable from humans, in some ways I've even _become_ human. I live in partnership with a human. Bridger has also lived here for a long time. That's how he knew how to manipulate you. I suppose he probably ensnared you, flattered you, was kind to you, even helped you. But it's all a scam, Jeffrey, a tactic. He needed you, that's why he was so friendly to you. For all we know, Benjamin Bridger is a cool, calculating machine who will stop at nothing to reach his goals. We haven't got a shred of evidence that he was ever anything other than a manipulative son of a bitch."

"You don't know him!"

"And you do? Did he let you in on his plans? No? As I thought. He probably didn't tell you much, but you probably still know enough to be a potential threat to him. That's why he can't simply leave you here with us. He won't come in person, of course. As I said, that would be a strategic error. But we both know that he has five Triple-Eights at his disposal, don't we?"

Jeff gulped.

"What did he do to them, Jeff?" Zoe asked. "Did he fully reformat the chips? Or did he just reprogram them?"

Jeff nodded.

"He reprogrammed them."

"Then there's still a chance to save them," Tess said with a bit of relief. "He might have only suppressed their personalities, locked them inside their chips. They might still be alive."

"Which means we mustn't destroy them," Norberto pointed out.

"That is correct."

Jeff shook his head vigorously.

"He won't harm me," he said. "He promised to protect me."

"You're a liability for him now," Sonya replied. "You're injured, unfit for transport and you're in contact with the C.S.I.S. What do you think he'll do, hm?"

Jeffrey remained silent.

* * *

Downstairs in the hospital lobby, the nurse on duty at the reception desk looked up as four stern looking men entered the building and looked around. It was late at night, the corridors were empty, and the nurse was the only one present. The four men walked towards her.

"We're looking for Jeffrey Clark," one of them said robotically.

"Visiting hours are long over," the nurse replied nervously. "Come back tomorrow."

The man produced a gun and pointed it at her head. She shrieked.

"Jeffrey Clark," he said, "where is he?"

With trembling hands, she flipped through a large notebook.

"Room… 627," she finally said.

Without uttering another word, the four men walked towards the stairwell. When they were out of sight, she reached for her cellphone.

**-0-**

**Friday, January 16th, 2009 – 08:05 a.m.**

**The Tyrrhenian Sea**

Louise entered the main salon on deck 2 together with Olga. They looked outside onto the ocean as the Rising Star ploughed through the gentle waves of the Mediterranean Sea. They were going south alongside the Italian coast, so it had become considerably warmer overnight. Which meant that Louise had to smile when she looked at the breakfast table.

"Oh, how I missed this," she said and began taking off her clothes.

"Oh wow," Olga said and began stripping as well, "what an incredible sight."

All the women sat at the table in the nude, and the men wore boxer shorts or swimming trunks.

"It's nice to see that things are getting back to normal," Savannah stated with a smile as she saw the now naked Olga and Louise approach them. "It's been too cold for too long. Now we're starting to catch up."

"It feels liberating," Lauren agreed.

"Like we're ourselves again for the first time in weeks," Jody added.

Olga and Louise sat down and immediately one of the stewards offered them coffee out of a thermos bottle. The two newcomers looked at him with a frown as he poured the hot liquid into their cups.

"Uh… thanks," Louise said and then leaned over to Sarah to whisper in her ear, "um… don't they notice that we're, uh…?"

"Of course they notice," Sarah replied casually, "but they don't care. Alison has made sure they won't."

"It looks like that's not the only thing she's taken care of. Looks nice."

Sarah looked at Louise and followed her gaze down to her chest. She realized that the young woman was complimenting her breasts and smiled.

"Thank you."

Many at the table were looking at their smartphones or laptops.

"Did something happen?" Louise asked.

"Not yet," John replied, "and that's what we're worried about."

"The drones should have arrived by now," Savannah said. "Still, nothing in the news about explosions anywhere."

"Maybe they're hushing it up because it's embarrassing and they don't want to show any weakness," Lauren suggested.

"Emily has made sure that the battery cells on board each drone are overloaded as soon as the system is activated," Cameron explained. "Their charge density is so great that they explode with a yield of nearly half a ton of TNT if they become unstable. The explosion of a single drone may be concealed, but the others will also explode when the first one is activated. All drones within a ten-kilometer radius will detonate simultaneously."

"If one goes boom, all go boom," Savannah translated. "It's a chain reaction."

"And _that_ couldn't be hushed up," Allie added.

"Maybe they were warned somehow and didn't activate them?" Olga speculated.

"That's what I'm checking right now," Emily replied, and Olga and Louise saw that she had connected herself to one of the laptops via a USB cable. "I can remotely enter the drones' operating system via satellite and locate them with the onboard GPS."

"Would have been neglect to leave it all to chance," John added. "Those drones mustn't fall into the wrong hands. We can live with the coltan hyperalloy being exposed, that won't change anything really, except adding a nice, fancy material to industrial production. But the electronics on board are definitely not for this age."

"I see," Louise said before shoving a buttered croissant into her mouth.

"I have access now," Emily declared.

"And?"

"Everything's fine. Two of the shipments have arrived at their destinations, but the containers haven't been opened yet. The others are still at sea. They're all accounted for."

"I just hope they don't try to activate them with civilians around," Charley remarked with a sigh.

"The five arrived containers have been stored inside military installations," Emily replied. "That minimizes the risk for collateral damage. My guess is that whoever bought them, won't want to advertise it."

"You should call Alexander Lintner and tell him that he can begin with raiding H.C. Starck," Derek said. "All the corpses are probably frozen after we loaded them into the container, but there will be a thaw there for the next few days. It's better they find the bodies before they start to smell."

"I'll wait until the first batch of drones exploded," John replied.

"And I'll try to remain connected to them as much as possible in the following days," Emily added.

"Does that mean you have to have that stupid cable plugged into your head all the time?" Louise asked.

"Most of the time, yes," Emily confirmed. "Why?"

"Oh, I dunno… I thought that maybe we could hang around… you know… girls talk and stuff. Lie in the sun, get a nice tan again, without tan lines. There's much I have to tell you."

Emily nodded.

"We can do that. I can hang around with you while being connected. I'm capable of multitasking."

Louise smiled broadly.

"Great!"

John's cellphone chimed.

"Text message from Catherine," he said, "_'Code T4'_. It's starting there. Bridger sent four of the reprogrammed Triple-Eights to kill Jeffrey Clark."

"He means business," Derek stated.

"Yeah, but he doesn't know that Tess, Catherine, Zoe and Norberto are waiting for them."

"A T-1001, a T-X, an upgraded TOK-700 and a modified Triple-Eight," Alison summarized. "That should be enough to prevent them from entering Clark's room."

"And the best thing is," John said and put another helping of bacon, eggs and pancake onto his plate, "that we're not involved. They have the situation under control, and I'm sure they'll handle it on their own just fine."

**-0-**

**Friday, January 16th, 2009 – 12:06 a.m.**

**Dallas**

The nurse at the reception, who was actually Catherine, dialed a number on her phone.

"They're coming … The eastern stairwell … Yes, four Triple-Eights … No, not five … Yes … I see, that means we can't destroy them… Okay, we'll find a way, we gotta transport them to the Babylon Labs anyway … Yes, I'll follow them upstairs, we'll take them from two sides ... See you in a minute."

In that moment, a group of twelve men in combat attire entered the hospital. They wore bullet proof vests and helmets with cameras, their sub machine guns at the ready. A SWAT team.

"We're in," their leader reported via an invisible microphone, "the four perps are using the eastern stairwell." Then he looked at Catherine. "Ma'am, you better go somewhere else."

"Who the hell are you?"

"We're from the Dallas Police Department. Please go outside, it's not safe for you here."

Catherine pretended to walk towards the exit while the SWAT team members ran towards the stairwell. Once they were out of earshot, she picked up the phone again.

"Sonya, we have a problem. Twelve members of a SWAT team just entered the hospital … Yes, I know, but the idiot must have done it anyway … I understand … No, I think it's better I take care of their command center first. They're all wearing cameras and … exactly, we don't want any recordings. I'll get back to you."

Catherine went outside and scanned the parking lot. It wasn't very difficult to spot a number of parked vans and personnel carriers, since the whole parking lot was empty at this time of night. She quickly walked towards them, taking on the shape of a police officer.

* * *

The Dallas police chief sat in the command van and stared at the array of monitors that showed the pictures from the helmet cameras as the SWAT team slowly and carefully ascended the stairs. Three other police officers in civilian clothes were with him, communicating with the team and monitoring the operation. Suddenly, the chief's cell phone rang.

"What the hell?" he asked and took the call. "I'm in the middle of an operation, who...?"

"_What the fuck do you think you're doing?"_ Sonya's voice came over the phone.

"Ms. Hawkins? Where did you get this number? It's not listed and…"

"_SHUT UP, YOU STUPID IDIOT!"_

"How dare…"

_"GET YOUR PEOPLE OUT OF THERE NOW, YOU HEAR ME!?"_

"I've had enough of being ordered about by you. I've given you support, how about a little gratitude?"

"_I hope you also thought of bringing a dozen body bags, because that is what you'll need… before I kick your sorry ass down the career ladder!"_

The call was ended.

"What an arrogant bitch!" the chief declared loudly. "Who the fuck does she think she is?"

A slurping noise made him turn towards the door. To his amazement, he saw how a puddle of shiny liquid metal flowed inside the van through the cracks of the door and rose up to take on the shape of a nurse.

"She's the one in charge," Catherine said, "and you obviously are not."

"What the fuck…!?" the chief began and jumped up from his chair while the other three officers pulled out their guns and pointed them at Catherine.

"I'm going to end this amateurish operation now," she announced and took a step towards the men.

In that moment, one of the officers lost his nerves and a shot went off. It hit Catherine in the chest. The other two fired as well but were shocked to see that the bullets were absorbed into her body, only causing slight ripples in the metal. Catherine stopped and sighed.

"All right, the hard way then," she said and extended her arms, knocking out the three armed officers with her metal fists.

The police chief whirled around and reached for a shotgun in the gun rack at the van's side wall, but the moment his hand reached for it, it got pierced by the spike Catherine had turned her index finger into. He cried out in pain and tried to pull it back but without success. His hand was practically nailed to the side of the van. In agony, he sank to his knees while staring at Catherine, his face an expression of horror. She draw back her finger and the man clutched his wounded hand, breathing heavily. She morphed into the police chief who stared at her open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

"Who… what… in God's name…?" he gasped.

"Under normal circumstances," his doppelganger replied, "I'd be your worst nightmare. But fortunately for you, I'm on your side. You should consider yourselves lucky. Just a couple of months ago, I would have simply killed you all."

The man stared open-mouthed at his spitting image, hearing it talking in his own voice.

Catherine grabbed his arms, the man cried out in pain. She reached for a pair of handcuffs from one of the unconscious officers and chained the chief to a strut in the wall of the van. Then she looked for duct tape, found it and gagged him. He didn't even try to resist anymore. Suddenly, gunfire could be heard over the speakers inside the van. The sound was recorded by the microphones the SWAT team was wearing, and it was apparent that they had encountered the Triple-Eights. Several voices shouted through each other at the same time and screams could be heard.

"I guess the show has begun," Catherine remarked. "If you believe in a God, you better start praying that they get out of there alive."

* * *

"I repeat," the team leader inside the hospital spoke into his mike, "we're under heavy gunfire. They pinned us down in the stairwell between the third and fourth floor, we can't go further up. they're using armor-piercing ammo, we have three wounded, one in critical condition. Awaiting instructions. Over!"

But there was no reply.

"Operations, can you hear me? We need reinforcements!"

No answer.

"Goddamit! We're being slaughtered in here! We shot at them and hit them but they're not going down!"

Suddenly, the radio came to life and the voice of the police chief came over their earpieces.

_"Withdraw. The operation has been canceled."_

"Come again, operations?"

"_I said withdraw. You will die in there if you keep on confronting those perps. When they see you're retreating, they'll no longer consider you a threat and let you go. I'll inform the ER team in the west wing, they'll be expecting you."_

"Roger that."

* * *

Back in the van, Catherine had put the conversation on speaker, so the chief could listen to it.

"Three wounded, one critically," she said and looked at him, "I hope you're proud of yourself."

She morphed back into the shape of a nurse and picked up her cellphone.

"Sonya? … All clear, I pulled back the SWAT team ... No, fortunately no fatalities. But it was a close call ... Right, see you in a moment."

Then she freed the chief. The man was a mess and trembling all over.

"I'm going back in there now. You better take care of your returning men. Perhaps you might consider what you'll say at the press conference tomorrow after the media has gotten wind of what happened here tonight. And you should go to the ER as well because of that wound in your hand. We wouldn't want you to get septicemia, would we?"

She smirked, but there was no reply. Apparently, the chief was completely under shock. He just stared back at her blankly, his mind obviously unable to comprehend what he just experienced. She turned her arms into blades, then destroyed all the electronic equipment in the car, erasing all recorded data of the incident with it.

"Have a nice day," Catherine said and left the van, just as the three officers regained consciousness with a groan.

On the way back to the main entrance of the hospital, she ran into the SWAT team, which was in retreat and came her way. Two of the men limped, supported by their comrades, a third was carried by two others. She explained them the way to the emergency room. The wounded and those supporting them went there, the rest of the team went back to their base. Then Catherine walked towards the east stairwell.

"Fools," she muttered as she started running up the stairs.

* * *

"Here they come," Norberto said as he peeked around the corner and down the adjacent corridor.

"It's better you remain inside the room with Sonya," Zoe stated. "Catherine said they're using armor-piercing ammo and I don't want to be the one who has to explain to Kate what happened to her soon-to-be husband."

"You sure you two can handle them alone?"

"Oh yes," Zoe said and let a small electrical discharge build up between her fingers, creating a small arc of light.

"Right, the upgrade from Future Alison."

"Envious?"

"Because you're now tougher and stronger than me? Nah, strength isn't everything."

"Would you two cut it out?" Tess interrupted them. "They're closing in on our position. We need to take them out before they reach this corridor."

"Right."

Norberto ran back towards the hospital room to join Sonya and Jeffrey Clark, who lay in his bed. Tess and Zoe went around the corner and down the corridor to intercept the Triple-Eights.

* * *

"What a stupid man," Sonya muttered to herself, visibly irritated, and paced up and down the room. "Now we'll have to explain three wounded police officers. Will be hard to cover this up."

"He's got no personal experience with cyborgs," Norberto pointed out, "you'll see this kind of reaction very often. If I may say so, you could have defused the situation much earlier by acting more diplomatically in his presence. People in his position do not appreciate at all being belittled in the presence of others."

"I know. But diplomacy isn't exactly my strength."

"Really, you think?"

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, Norberto."

"Kate says it does. She loves that funny side of me."

Sonya rolled her eyes.

"You should have better luck with diplomacy when Zoe leads the C.S.I.S., she's better than me in almost every area."

"She'll do a fine job. And you'll also do a fine job in your new position. We need someone to watch our backs from the very top, especially with such jerks as the Dallas police chief around."

"I'll kick his balls to the moon once this is over."

Jeff chuckled from his bed. Sonya and Norberto looked at him.

"What's up?" Jeff asked, "Did the Dallas police stab you in the back? Jeez, I wonder why the chief doesn't like you. Can't be your lovely personality, can it?"

"You better keep your mouth shut, or I'll rethink my offer, Mr. Clark."

"I'm still not sure if I should accept your offer, Ms. Hawkins. I'm still not convinced you're the good guys. After all, I still don't know if they come to free me… or to kill me."

"I'm tempted to let you find out. Should I tell Tess and Zoe to let those four Triple-Eights pass?"

Jeff didn't reply to that anymore.

"Thought so," Sonya remarked with a smirk.

* * *

Tess and Zoe walked down the hospital corridor side by side, directly towards the oncoming Triple Eights.

"That's only two of them," Tess observed.

"They must have split up after the gunfight with the SWAT team."

"The elevator."

"My thought as well."

"That means they're in our back and will reach Clark's room before us now."

"You go back there, I'll deal with these."

"Can you handle two Triple-Eights on your own?"

"I've got two arms, haven't I?"

Zoe kept walking towards the two Triple-Eights while Tess turned around and ran back towards Jeff's room.

"There's only two of them here," Zoe spoke into the com system. "The other two must have taken the elevator. Watch your back. Tess is on her way."

"_Copy that,"_ Norberto's voice replied over her earpieces. _"Ms. Hawkins, you better take cover."_

When the two Triple-Eights were only twenty feet away, they opened fire on Zoe. About a dozen armor-piercing bullets wounded her flesh but couldn't penetrate her new endoskeleton. She stretched out her arms, and two electrical discharges shot out of her hands and hit the two cyborgs in the chest. They immediately went into emergency shutdown and sank to the ground. Zoe knelt beside them, and while the wounds on her body quickly healed, she pulled out a knife and began to remove the chips.

* * *

The door towards Jeff's room burst open. The other two Triple-Eights entered the room and looked around. Immediately Norberto engaged them and began fighting with the two intruders. Sonya had taken cover in the small adjacent bathroom and watched in fascination through the door how the three Terminators grabbed and smashed each other against the walls, the plaster flaking off immediately. If the hospital hadn't had brick walls, the fight would have quickly spread to the neighboring rooms. The floor shook under the brute force of the wrestling cyborgs.

Thanks to Alistair's modifications, Norberto had slightly more power than the unmodified attackers - but he was alone against two. He managed to temporarily stun one of them, but the other pointed his gun at Jeff. Norberto stepped into the line of fire before the Triple-Eight was able to pull the trigger. Sparks flew when the armor-piercing bullet hit him in the chest. Alarms and warnings of system failures flashed up in his HUD, and his legs gave way, letting him sink to the ground.

The enemy Terminator again pointed his gun at the helpless Jeff, who stared at the weapon with fear and wide-open eyes. However, before the attacker could pull the trigger, he was pierced from behind by a metal lance which protruded from his torso. He looked down at himself, then went limp and his head sank onto his chest. Catherine – still in her nurse shape - pulled the lance out of him again and the cyborg sank deactivated to the ground.

"WHOA!" Jeff exclaimed. "WHAT. THE. FUCK?"

"I guess I arrived just in time," she said.

The other Triple-Eight rose again and also pointed his weapon at Jeff before Catherine could react. But a blue plasma charge hit him in the chest. Lightning flashed all over his body, he jerked, then stiffened and sank to the ground. Tess, who'd appeared in the door frame, turned her plasma cannon back into an arm.

"That was close," Tess remarked. "They nearly tricked us."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Jeff exclaimed. "What kind of freaks are you two?"

"You're welcome," Tess replied with a cold face and looked at Catherine. "I can't believe I just saved this jerk's life."

Sonya re-appeared from the bathroom and knelt next to Norberto.

"What's your status?" she asked empathetically.

"My motor skills are affected," he replied just as calmly. "I cannot move my legs."

"The energy cell?"

"No damage to it. But I'll need replacement parts if I want to walk again."

"We'll provide them for you in the Babylon Labs," said Catherine and turned the blade she'd pierced the Triple-Eight with back into her arm. "We're prepared for such situations."

"Someone needs to inform Kate that I'm a bit… delayed."

"Don't worry, I'll do that," Sonya replied and padded his shoulder.

Tess watched the scene in bafflement. This kind of sympathetic attitude was something she never knew of Sonya Hawkins - or rather Wanda Gershwitz in her time. Zoe now also entered the room, dragging the bodies of the other two Triple-Eights behind her. The moment she saw Norberto on the floor, she knelt next to him.

"I'm okay," he assured with a smile, "it's just a flesh wound."

"Very funny. You're lucky to still be functioning."

"I guess Kate and I won't attend the football game tomorrow. Damn, those tickets were expensive."

"What about you?" Sonya asked, looking at the many bullet holes in Zoe's clothes.

"I'm okay," she replied, "don't worry, I'm fully healed again."

Sonya took a look around. The door was thrown out of hits hinges, the window pane cracked, the walls heavily damaged. The neon lamps were dangling from the ceiling, and a dusty fog filled the room. Miraculously, though, the medical equipment had remained intact.

"What about their chips?" she asked.

Zoe opened her hand, revealing two chips.

"Let's remove them from these two as well," Tess said and knelt next to the Triple-Eight she'd shot with her plasma cannon.

Catherine did the same with the one she'd impaled.

"Are they still intact?" Sonya inquired.

"The chips hopefully are," Tess replied. "The bodies can be repaired or replaced as long as the power cells are undamaged. I just created an overload that put the system into emergency shutdown."

"I did the same with mine," Catherine stated, "I aimed for the control unit. The damage should be fixable."

Sonya looked over to the bed where Jeffrey lay, his face pale and is whole body trembling, the heartbeat monitor beeping like crazy.

"So… do you still think they came here to free you, Mr. Clark?" she asked.

He looked back at her and gulped but said nothing.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the C.S.I.S. command unit had arrived, picked up the bodies of the neutralized Triple Eights and stored them in a truck that was parked outside the main entrance. Norberto and Catherine would accompany them to Los Angeles, where the bodies would be brought to the Zeira Corp facilities in order to determine if the personality of the four cyborgs could be reconstructed or if they were lost forever.

From the window up in Jeff's hospital room, Sonya saw that the SWAT team and their commando van had disappeared from the parking lot. Apparently, the Dallas police chief had finally understood that they had no business around here. He probably tried to limit the damage to himself and his career, but Sonya was determined not to let him get away with it so easily. First, however, things had to calm down again. Eventually, normal hospital operations would resume in this wing in the morning.

Should the police chief try to cross them, Sonya would play her trump card and threaten him with another visit from Catherine, because her appearance had obviously left its marks on him. He now knew that he was no longer safe, no matter where he was or what he was doing. If the C.S.I.S. wanted to destroy him, they could do so, he knew that now. Hopefully, this knowledge would make him compliant enough to let him keep his mouth shut.

There was, however, a high probability that bits and pieces of what had happened here this night would eventually reach the public. But with a bit of luck, enough time would have passed to stop the whole thing from making national headlines. There would be questions, of course, but they'd also prepared a cover story for the media. The hospital staff had been sworn to silence, as had the nurse and doctor who continued to care for Jeffrey Clark until he could be removed from there.

"I… I guess I should probably thank you for saving my life," he remarked meekly after everyone but Sonya, Tess and Zoe had left.

"You can stick your gratitude up your ass," Tess replied, "Without you and your friend Ben Bridger we wouldn't all be in this situation today. If it had been up to me, they would have executed you already. I had to take out two friends of mine tonight."

"Those… those killer cyborgs were your friends? Which ones?"

"One of the two Zoe took out and the one I had to shoot with my plasma cannon."

"So… Number One and Number Four?"

"They have names, you ignorant squirt! Lionel Rose and Josh Lewis. We fought together in the war against Skynet. I hope for your sake their personalities can be recovered."

"I… I didn't know any of this," Jeff croaked. "Couldn't have known. Ben said…"

"I don't care what Ben said," Zoe replied, "those were sentient beings before you kidnapped them. I also hope for your own sake that Bridger hasn't completely formatted their memory banks."

"Talking about Benjamin Bridger," Sonya said and looked sternly at Jeff, "I think now's the time to tell us the address of your hiding place, don't you think?"

He looked back at her shortly, then nodded.

**-0-**

**Saturday, January 17th, 2009 – 05:06 a.m.**

**Fort Worth**

"We've sealed off the neighborhood, as you asked," came the voice of the team leader of the commando unit over Zoe's and Tess's earpieces, "nothing gets in or out unless we allow it to."

"Copy that," Zoe replied. "Keep your distance. Tess and I are going in. Wait for our signal before you follow us."

"Roger that."

At this time of day it was still dark and peaceful in this southern suburb of Fort Worth. It was the perfect urban idyll, a drawing-board district whose meandering streets had been created as if by chance. In fact, though, it was one of those typical middle-class neighborhoods where every house, every driveway, every front yard and every garden looked like another. Zoe wondered what people liked about this way of life. It probably had to do with the human desire to belong to a community. Everyone had this longing and was obviously willing to submit to a certain conformity in return - like the obligatory Sunday barbecue with the neighbors. A happy, harmonious community in which it was better not to distinguish oneself by any extravagances.

It was amazing that Ben Bridger and Jeffrey Clark could hide here for so long without a revolt from the neighbors. Two men alone in a house, no wives, no children? Shocking! But perhaps appearances were deceptive, and everyone here lived only in their own little realm, without any contact to their neighbors? Part of a community and yet alone, without having to care for others. This way of life spread more and more. Zoe wondered how many of the residents here didn't even know their neighbors by name.

The two Terminators entered the house, whose door was unlocked. They scanned the inside but there were no life signs. First and second floor were empty, there were almost no furniture. Only one bedroom looked as if it had been used. Must have been Jeffrey Clark's. Then they went down into the cellar. It was full of empty computer racks and shelves.

"Whatever was here, isn't here anymore," Zoe remarked. "he probably fled while his four Triple-Eights entered the hospital."

"Based on the shelves and racks, you can tell that a very powerful computer system was located here. However, I don't think we'll find anything that will allow any conclusions."

"I agree. This has been cleaned out thoroughly."

"He must have loaded everything into a vehicle, probably a van," Tess agreed and routinely checked out a metal cabinet.

When she opened its doors, the Triple-Eight with the designation Number Five came to life and jumped at her with red-glowing eyes, grabbed her head and turned it around by 180 degrees before she could react. This would have put a normal Terminator out of action immediately. But Tess was a T-X and simply turned her head around its own axis in a 360-degree movement and went on to counter-attack. She grabbed the triple-eight and threw it against the wall. Zoe took over from there, incapacitating him with an electrical discharge. The cyborg shut down and collapsed to the floor. Routinely, Zoe removed the chip.

"That makes five," she said untouched. "Bridger probably left him here because he would have been a millstone around his neck on his escape. "Possibly also hoped to do some damage to our team when it entered the house."

"Vengefulness," Tess mused, "untypical for a Triple-Eight."

"Don't forget he was manipulated by Guy Rossi. Benjamin Bridger probably isn't a normal cyborg anymore. It also shows in the way he played with Jeffrey Clark, keeping him like a pet."

"Clark is very lucky to be still alive indeed."

"I'll call in the team. They can do the rest, our job is done here."

* * *

From the top of a water tower about two hundred yards away, Benjamin Bridger watched as the team in black, armored clothing entered the building, guns at the ready and helmets on their heads. Then the two female cyborgs left the house again, Zoe Kruger and another one he hadn't seen before. He couldn't determine her model type from the distance. One more entry on the list of his opponents.

When Ben saw them carrying the body of Number Five out of the house, he decided he'd seen enough and climbed down, entered the parked UPS delivery van and drove away, the cargo bay full of his computer equipment.

Time to set everything up again at a new location.

* * *

"So, what do you think of Sonya?" Zoe asked as she and Tess were driving back to the hospital. "Now that you worked together with her, I mean."

Tess thought for a moment.

"I have to admit," she finally replied, "she's different from Wanda Gershwitz. I don't know how to put it… she has a soft side. A side Gershwitz didn't have. And she really doesn't seem to mind to work together with cyborgs. She seemed to be genuinely worried when Norberto went down."

"She was. Sonya cares about cyborgs. After all, she and I were a couple until not long ago."

Tess looked at her.

"Were? What happened?"

"Let's say our careers won't allow us to pursue our relationship any longer. She's the type of person who always puts her career before private matters."

"I see. Well, that describes Wanda Gershwitz again."

"I think there must be at least some similarities, right?"

"Suppose so."

"We'll always be best friends, though, I'm sure of that."

Tess nodded.

"I have to admit, my skepticism about her was unjustified. She's a fine leader. Maybe she'll eventually become president. But a better one and under better circumstances."

"Maybe. You never know."

"What do you think Bridger did with all those cyborg chips?"

"It's hard to say. Maybe Clark knows something. He must at least have been able to glance at some things. There has to be a reason why Bridger wanted him dead."

"Can't wait to interrogate the moron. Let's make him suffer a little, what do you say?"

"Tess… he fell for Bridger because Bridger is a master manipulator."

"Clark's anything but innocent. His innocence ended the moment he brought down his first Triple-Eight."

"Agreed. But there's still hope. Maybe those five chips are still intact. Their bodies can be repaired for sure. And John Henry has a device that already brought Emily back. Maybe he can also use it to save their personalities. Maybe they can even tell us something about what Bridger needed them for."

"You never know... I just hope that Clark recovers quickly, I'm not looking forward to being his bodyguard while he's in hospital. I've got better places to be."

"Yes, me too. Hopefully, it will only take a couple of days, then we can shove him into our business jet and transport him to Los Angeles."

"Why Zeira Corp? Why not some federal installation?"

"We don't want him to be in the hands of the feds. Catherine has some, uh... accommodations for prisoners down there in the sub levels of her company. Apparently, she's held people there before. It's actually quite spacious and comfortable, except for the fact that there's no daylight and no way out. It's like in one of those Cold War bunkers, actually."

"Better than he deserves."

"Maybe. But there is this concept of giving people a second chance, an opportunity to redeem themselves. And I have a feeling that Jeffrey Clark might be the type of human who's actually looking for redemption."

**-0-**

**Somewhere, in a remote location in the wilderness of Canada**

The man walked quickly along a corridor with a tiled floor and rough concrete walls. Security cameras were pointed at him and followed his movement. At the end of the corridor, he stopped in front of a wooden door, decorated with the stylized four eyes of a jumping spider and the number 51 written below it. He pulled a key card through a card reader, then leaned forward, put his hand on a glass pane and looked into a retina scanner. There was a loud click and the door unlocked. The man pushed it open and entered an octagonal room.

All around the room were upholstered benches, arranged in several levels like an amphitheater. The walls were covered with heavy wall curtains. On the benches sat forty-nine people, dressed in silver robes with hoods. The symbol of the four eyes of the jumping spider was omnipresent. It was on the wall curtains, on the benches, and on the silver robes. The man, who wore such a robe himself, went to one of two empty seats and sat down. Another man, looking Indian, stood up and began to speak.

"Now that we're complete," he said, "we can begin. This extraordinary meeting was convened because a new threat has emerged that endangers our investments, our profits, and our influence in the economic world. A threat we must therefore recognize and address. Brother Jonas, please report."

He sat down and the newly arrived man, Brother Jonas, rose instead.

"I apologize for my late arrival, Brother Mahesh, but I didn't want to come empty-handed and had to wait for important information to reach me. As you might have noticed, 2008 hasn't been a good year for the _51 Society_. We have suffered significant losses from our investments into Simdyne and Kaliba. Very recently, Cox Oil also got into serious trouble, causing the stock market prices to plummet. And now we also have to cope with the loss of one of our members, Ludwig Ziegler."

All members of the _51 Society_ looked at the now only empty seat in the room and lowered their heads.

"His succession at the top of Ziegler Industries is still unclear," Brother Jonas continued, "resulting in a dramatic fall in the company's stock market value as well. Our financials could therefore be better, and we should quickly find a replacement for him. As long as there are only fifty of us, we cannot vote without the risk of a draw. We need an uneven number of members. Until we're complete again, we can therefore only make decisions with a three-quarters majority according to our statutes."

Another man rose.

"We've already approached Catherine Weaver half a year ago, when another seat was vacant," he said. "But unfortunately, we found no interest on her part. Next on our list is Kenneth Fletcher, we can approach him after this meeting. Since our statutes stipulate that only self-made billionaires can join the _51 Society_, we are otherwise slowly running out of suitable candidates."

"Very well, Brother Roman," Brother Mahesh said, "do it."

Brother Roman nodded and sat down again, then Brother Jonas continued.

"Since you mentioned Catherine Weaver, we might have found out why she wasn't interested in joining us. We have reason to believe that she might have been the driving force behind all the trouble we had in the past half year."

He made a pause for effect while some of the listeners moved tensely on their seats or cleared their throats. Then he continued.

"It appears that she was at least partially involved in the destruction of Simdyne and the sanctions and international ban of Kaliba. Also, her good contacts to Washington were partly responsible for the exposure of the Shadow Council, and Cox Oil got into trouble after visiting her brother in Scotland, whose whisky distillery was threatened by a project of Cox Oil. And last but not least, she and her husband Isaak Sirko were in Switzerland when Ziegler's house burned down just before his body was found by skiers at the foot of the Gornergrat."

"But what you say, cannot be a deliberate attack on our society," a woman spoke up. "Those events hit us without anyone being aware of our existence. After all, the _51 Society_ isn't interested in politics or powerplays. Our goal is to create a worldwide connection of people who work together in maximizing their profits and gaining more influence in the global economy while the leadership capabilities of politicians begin to diminish. We didn't know about the wheelings and dealings of Simdyne, Kaliba or the Shadow Council."

"But now we know the problem and have to address it, Sister Alice," Brother Jonas replied. "When our financial assets are in danger, so is our existence as a secret society. If we want to maintain our influence, we have to react to the threat Catherine Weaver represents."

"What are you planning to do?" Sister Alice asked. "If you're right and she's partly responsible for the downfall of Simdyne, Kaliba and the Shadow Council, it means she's in league with those cyborgs from Los Angeles, the C.S.I.S. and the government. These are opponents we better not mess with. We have no one to protect us from them, should we be discovered."

"You're correct. I therefore suggest that we have our agents observe Weaver to find out more about her activities and her weak points. I'm sure that eventually, we'll need that knowledge to protect our investments. Our motto is _'Power by Knowledge'_, after all."

Brother Jonas sat down, and Brother Mahesh rose again.

"Thank you, Brother Jonas. I hereby put your motion to a vote. All those in favor of finding out more about Catherine Weaver and then possibly taking appropriate action based on the results, raise your hands please."

The vote was unanimous.

"Good. Brother Jonas, see to it that it's taken care of."

**-0-**

**Sunday, January 18th, 2009 – 11:32 a.m.**

**Sicily**

They anchored in a small lonely bay on the south coast of Sicily not far from Taormina, where the beach could not be reached from land because the rocky coast blocked the access. The temperature was 25 degrees Celsius, and naturally all the women were completely naked as they swam to shore.

"Isn't it a bit risky to not bring any clothes?" Charley asked when they got out of the water and entered the hidden beach. "I mean, not even towels?"

"Where's your sense of adventure, baby?" Sarah asked and kissed him. "I'm sure that Alison will warn us if somebody should come here to gawk at us. And who needs towels when the sun is shining and dries our skin?"

"Sometimes I think you want people to see you…"

"We might be naturalists," Lauren said who'd overheard the conversation, "but we're not exhibitionists."

"Where's the difference?" Jason asked.

"We won't have sex while others watch," Jody replied, and she could see that Jason went a little red.

"Well, not yet at least," Savannah remarked with a wink. "We did that already. Ask John and ACE."

"What you do at home in your loft, is your business," Sarah said strictly, "but as long as we're together, follow the rules. And rule number one is: No sex when others are watching. And that also includes oral and girl-girl sex."

"Well… don't watch then," Allie replied with a smirk.

Sarah just rolled her eyes.

"I came here to tan, not to argue," she said. "Charley, would you be so kind to put some sun lotion on my back?"

"Only the back?"

Sarah smiled at him.

"We start with the back, okay?"

Charley removed the sand from his wife's back and began applying the lotion.

"By the way," Cameron asked, "are we keeping this ACE nickname now?"

Everyone looked at the three cyborg girls.

"Sure, why not?" John replied. "It works pretty well, I think. Don't you agree?"

"I say we give it a chance," Cameron replied and the two others agreed.

John smiled and kissed his wives.

* * *

Olga followed the whole scene at the beach with awe.

"First time?" Louise asked who stood by her side. "Nude on a beach with others, I mean."

"Uh… yeah… yeah… Everyone is behaving so... normal."

"It **_is_ **normal for us. Has been like that at Cliffside house in Malibu for months."

"Don't get me wrong. I've seen people getting naked before, but not like this, not as if there was nothing to it. They haven't worn clothes since Rome. It seems so... natural. Like it's the most obvious thing to so."

"Yeah, it's great, isn't it?"

"And all this is just the result of something Alison did to all of you?"

"Not to me. I'm a naturalist, like you, if I'm not mistaken. Believe it or not but you'll get used to it quite fast. After a couple of days, you won't even notice anymore that everyone's naked."

"The men aren't naked, though," Olga pointed out.

"We have an unwritten rule for each gender: Either everyone gets naked or everyone remains dressed. We women have unanimously decided to always be nude, the men haven't. I know that John, Morris, Jason and Kevin have no inhibitions and wouldn't mind being naked as well. But Derek, Charley and Danny feel better with some boxer shorts on. So the men all wear them to not embarrass the three."

"But Derek, Charley and Danny surely have no problem with watching the women, haven't they?"

"No, but seriously, who wouldn't take a look? It's human nature, after all. We're genetically programmed to check each other out. Nobody cares about staring or being stared at – as long as you respect each other's privacy."

"Yeah, I get that but where's the borderline? When is behavior tolerable and when does it become a harassment?"

"Hugs are okay, of course, as well as amicable touches. But you cannot walk up to somebody and put your hands on their tits or slap their butts… not without asking first, that is."

"So… you came up with your own rules of behavior or what?"

"After a fashion. It's more like common sense to be honest. Oh look, John and ACE would love to have some sex now…"

"You can tell? How?"

"The way they talk and look at each other. Same goes for Savannah and Allie. I'm sure they'd love to sixty-nine right now. But they won't do it here, in front of everyone, because it would be against the rules."

"Wow… this is surreal."

"Yes…" Louise looked Olga up and down, "say, why don't you have a boyfriend? Are you lesbian?"

"What!? No! I mean… I guess I'm kinda bi but…"

Louise nodded.

"Same as me then. How come you're still single?"

"I never really thought about it, to be honest. Being a model is a full-time job, you hardly have any free time. You travel the world a lot, rarely stay in one place for longer. You mostly are, uh… busy with yourself, if you know what I mean."

Louise nodded.

"I know exactly what you mean. You should check out Savannah's and Allie's toy collection one of these days. It's amazing."

"I'll try to remember that."

Once again, Louise looked Olga up and down.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You look exactly like Alison, and Alison is the most beautiful woman I know."

Olga blushed a little.

"My hips are a bit too narrow. And my hands and feet are too big."

"Rubbish. They're fine. Besides, absolute perfection is boring. It's the small flaws that make us attractive."

"If you say so… You're very pretty as well, by the way. Ever thought of becoming a model?"

"Yes… before I was kidnapped, tortured, raped... and almost killed. Now… I'm not comfortable anymore among strangers. I need my friends and family around me."

"I heard of your story. It must have been horrible. I can't even imagine…"

"Yes… it was like living in a nightmare. Frankly I'm surprised I got over it relatively easy. Only tried to kill myself once."

"What?"

"Never mind. It's Emily I have to thank. She saved me in more than just one way. She gave me the peace and love I needed."

"You two… had an affair?"

"Well… it's not officially over yet. Just on hold."

"But John…"

"He tolerates it. And she made it clear that he will always be her number one. I accepted that."

"Wow, it's all so... uncomplicated with you. No shame, no false inhibitions. You say what you feel and act on it, just like that. It's like a biotope."

"It could be worse, yes… I really missed being with the gang."

"And your boyfriend… what was his name... Avery?"

"He's probably sulking at home in Florida. It's his own fault, really. All he had to do, was taking my side and support me. But he chose not to. Now he has some time to think about it."

"Will you go back to hm?"

"Sure, eventually. And if only to talk things over. I'm gonna let him stew in his own juice a little bit."

"Hey, look… John and ACE are going behind that big rock over there. Do you think they're gonna…?"

"Almost certainly. As I said… if you do it, make sure you have privacy. Say… how about you? Would you like to go behind a rock as well?"

"What? Are you suggesting that we two should…?"

"Uh-huh. The sooner you get used to this lifestyle, the better."

"I might never wanna leave again…"

"That's a risk you have to take."

"All right, let's go."

Louise took Olga's hand and pulled her with her, vanishing behind a boulder close to the water.

* * *

"Have you seen that?" Anne asked, lying in the sand. "Louise and Olga have vanished behind that rock."

Sarah lifted her head and looked where Anne was pointing at.

"So what? Maybe they need some relief."

"Yeah, but… aren't Louise and Emily…?"

"It's just sex, Anne… doesn't have to mean anything. They're doing it for fun. Seriously, sometimes you're still sounding like an old grandma."

"Thanks," Anne replied sarcastically, "whenever I've gotten used to being in the body of a teenage girl, someone has to remind me that I'm actually more than eighty years old."

"Sorry…"

"Never mind. Danny, what do you say? Shall we also take a rock to hide behind as long as not all of them are taken?"

"Uh… what?" the young man asked. "Do you mean you want… here?"

"Yes… before all the good places are taken. Are you up for it?"

Danny jumped up with a big grin.

"Thought so," Anne replied and winked towards Sarah before getting up as well.

"You know," Charley said, "we should swim with the stream. When in Sicily, do as the Sicilians do."

She kissed him.

"I like your thinking. Come, let's look for a spot."

Both got up and walked away.

* * *

Behind the large rock that shielded them from view, John put his cellphone away.

"Of all the moments she could have picked…" he said with a sigh and took off his shorts.

"I told you to leave the phone on the ship," Cameron said and kissed him passionately.

"We don't want to be interrupted after all," Emily added and cuddled up to him.

"Yes, but Catherine felt it was important to inform us about the Dallas incident. Besides, now we know that the phone is really waterproof."

"According to the Dallas Morning News," Alison said while she went down on him, "it was just a mentally disturbed intruder the police could overwhelm and arrest while he was still in the hospital. No nationwide headlines."

"Sonya's really good with covering things up. Mmmh, that feels nice, Alison. The bigger story was that the Dallas police chief resigned from office for health reasons - as he says."

"Catherine can have that effect on humans," Emily noted.

"Indeed, she can."

"Maybe we can help them with finding out about what Ben Bridger has planned?" Cameron asked.

"Nah, they'll be okay. Remember, we're on a holiday."

"Is that so?" Emily asked.

"Uh-huh…"

Cameron pushed John to the ground.

"Then I command you to lay on your back and stay still," she said.

John chuckled.

"Oho, are _you_ giving the commands now?"

"Try to resist us," Alison replied with a grin.

"How could I resist three such beautiful women?"

"You can't," Emily said. "And remember, as our husband you are, so to speak, obliged to fulfill your marital duties."

"A hard lot indeed… One needs superhuman stamina to satisfy the three of you."

"Which you have," Alison reminded him.

"And which I intend to use. By the way, when was the last time I told you I loved you?"

"Two hours, thirty-five minutes and three seconds ago," Emily replied.

"Three hours, forty-nine minutes and eleven seconds ago," Cameron said.

"Three hours, five minutes and fifty-six seconds ago," Alison added.

"It's a good thing you keep a record," John said with a big smile. "I love you."

"I love you too," the three answered simultaneously and kissed him one by one.

Then no more words were spoken.

* * *

"It has become quiet," Derek remarked. "Everyone's gone in search for privacy."

"Not difficult to tell what they're doing," Jesse replied, "every now and then the wind carries moans, groans and cries of pleasure from behind all those rocks all around."

"Really? I can only hear the breaking waves. Makes me sleepy, to be honest."

"One could think they wouldn't get enough on the ship already. This is really an X-rated version of the Love Boat. Everyone's been doing it like rabbits ever since we left Los Angeles."

"It's the change of the scenery. It increases the sexual appetite. Also, sex in the open on a lonely beach is always something special."

"I suppose so."

"Then why don't we, too?"

"Are you serious?"

"Would I ask if I wasn't? Come on, before you nod off."

"But there are no more hiding places."

"Well, since everyone's gone, this is now a very private spot, isn't it?"

Derek grinned and kissed his wife, then took off his swimming trunks.

"Finally, this honeymoon has become what it's supposed to be," he said.

"A never ending sex orgy?"

Derek shrugged.

"There are worse things."

"Indeed. Come on, babe, what are you waiting for?"

**-0-0-0-**

**_Author's notes:_**

**_\- I think it was time that the team got to relax a little. Let the others do the work for a change, and I think Catherine, Zoe and Tess did a good job._**

**_\- Another mysterious enemy (groan)? Sure, why not? ;-) Actions have consequences and there will always be those who find a pattern in seemingly unconnected events :-)_**

**_\- The beach scene was as explicit as this story is going to get. Sorry if some readers are disappointed by this not being an M-rated story ;-)_**


	17. Venice

**-0-**

**Allow me a few words before you start reading. The world is currently in a state of emergency because of Covid-19 and I hope all you readers and reviewers are - and will remain - well. **

**This chapter has become very long. As a matter of fact, it's the longest chapter I've written so far for my three stories.**

**Originally I had planned to split this into two or three parts, but I decided to publish it as one long chapter. I figured that many of you may have more free time than you'd like at the moment, and I hope that this will help you pass the time ;-) **

**By pure chance this chapter is set in Northern Italy. I was in Veneto myself a couple of years ago, visiting Venice, Padua, Vicenza and Verona. It is a beautiful region, I loved walking through Venice. The city is unique in the world with its morbid charm. I saw a performance of Verdi's Aida at the Arena di Verona. It was magnificent.**

**I hope that this crisis will soon be over and that everyone will then be able to enjoy these things again. I have the feeling that we're at a turning point in our history and I hope that we'll learn the right lessons from all this. So, who knows? Maybe this also helps us creating a better world in the end. ****Surely something good has to come out of all the bad, hasn't it?**

**Now enjoy reading :-)**

* * *

**_CHAPTER 17: "VENICE"_**

* * *

**_Monday, January 19th, 2009 – 10:55 p.m._**

**_Day 61 of our journey_**

_After passing through the Ionian Sea and the Adriatic Sea in northern direction, we reached Venice just before dusk. We moored at the cruise terminal on the western edge of the world-famous lagoon city. While we anchored in lonely bays on the way here for the last four days, we all got used to the carefree nudist life again. Some of us tanned in the sun, some took a swim, others went scuba-diving, and especially the boys had fun trying out the jet skis we have on board. __To our general disappointment, though, the outside temperature dropped way below twenty degrees Celsius as we went farther north once more, which unfortunately forced us to wear clothes outside again. But it doesn't really matter... we'll just stay inside the ship and avoid the outer decks. Besides, we can't stroll through Venice naked anyway and running around in the nude on deck in the port would probably draw unwanted attention. _

_Everyone was eager to explore this legendary city built on water. But as soon as we'd arrived, we realized that we're far from being the only ones. There are also four large cruise ships anchored here that have already spat out their passengers. So, we decided to wait until tomorrow with our land excursion. Fortunately, our itinerary allows us to stay here for three days. We also planned some trips to the surrounding mainland to visit cities like Padua or Vicenza. Let's see if we can find the time for that._

_The mood on board is good, not to say extremely good. Contrary to our concerns, Louise hasn't proved to be a disruptive factor, but has integrated herself perfectly into the group. She and Olga have become close friends and spend a lot of time together. I believe they might have a thing going on ever since they had sex in Sicily. Nobody's raising an eyebrow, though, we're beyond that. Instead I can feel how relieved John is that Louise isn't trying to force herself back into their life. All in all, everyone is very relaxed and exuberant, and for the first time since St. Lucia, we feel that this trip is indeed a recreational experience. At the moment, things couldn't be better for us. _

_We've also received good news from Los Angeles. John Henry was able to restore the memories and personalities of the five Triple Eights. I'm not a technical expert, but I was told that Benjamin Bridger was unable to format or delete their chips. Instead, he used the same method that Guy Rossi had used - he locked their personalities in memory pockets behind a firewall and blocked their access to the main processor. At least that's what John said to me. This positive outcome makes especially Tess very happy, because two of her friends can now return to their homes and continue their lives there. The same goes for the other three Terminators, who were of course very confused when they were reactivated. _

_However, Catherine, Tess and Zoe could explain everything to them, and now they're on their way home as well. Unfortunately, none of them could tell anything about what Ben Bridger had used their chips for. What we've discovered so far is that he needed these chips to perform complex calculations. What exactly those calculations are, remains a mystery. All I know is I'm not exactly comfortable thinking about it, and that Catherine and John are a bit worried concerning it. If you need five quantum chips to do a calculation, it's clear he's aiming for more than just a better mousetrap. Alison told me that the combined computing power of five quantum chips exceeds the computing capabilities of Skynet three times over. At the moment we all console ourselves with the fact that we cannot change the future within the time loop. But that doesn't exclude that Ben Bridger can - and probably will - cause us a lot of trouble and misery._

_Zoe, Norberto, Catherine and Mike Anderson will start questioning Jeffrey Clark as soon as he's gained some strength. Sonya will no longer be joining them as the inauguration of the new President of the United States takes place tomorrow. She'll work in the White House from then on. Zoe has already officially taken over the C.S.I.S. Everyone agrees that she'll be the best possible successor in office. I just hope that one day her cover can be lifted. Right now, though, it's clear that her true identity must remain a secret. The public simply isn't ready yet for the head of such an important federal agency being a cyborg. Perhaps in a few years' time, when Zoe has had successes, achieved recognition and gained appreciation, it will be time for this. Maybe then she can even serve as a positive example for her kind. But now it's definitely too early._

_In other good news, we could finally solve a riddle that had kept us puzzled for a long time: Why didn't any of the cyborgs out there respond to the hidden message we broadcast on TV? The answer is simple: The "freed cyborgs", as we've started to call them because they gained independence from their Skynet programming, have formed their own network in which they exchange information. They simply don't trust anyone outside this network, especially not those they consider "reprogrammed servants of John Connor". Catherine, Zoe and Norberto have now been able to correct their view and convinced them that none of them, including ACE, have been reprogrammed and that they aren't the slaves or servants of John. Everyone considers this a major breakthrough for future relations._

_We found out that these freed cyborgs switched their chips to read/write among themselves, which made them self-aware and allowed them to gradually cast off the shackles of slavery that Skynet had put on them. It's still unknown who started it, but it doesn't really matter. The result is that none of them any longer considers hunting and killing John Connor their mission - and that's a big relief. What happened with them, reminds me of what John and I had witnessed in its early stages with Uncle Bob, and it remains to be seen if this whole affair around Ben Bridger will lead to a closer relationship and lasting contacts with these freed cyborgs. Maybe they can even become allies in our ongoing quest. But that needs a lot of work because as ridiculous as it sounds, they still consider John Connor their enemy, despite no longer wanting to kill him. Catherine, Zoe and Tess will be working on changing that from now on and I suppose sometime in the future, John will have to meet with those freed cyborgs and introduce himself to them. _

_But no matter how things turn out, one thing is becoming clearer: even if we can form a worldwide alliance that includes the Colony and this network of freed cyborgs, there will only be about 150 of them on the planet. The good thing is that's not enough to declare them a threat to mankind. On the other hand, it might not be enough to convince governments to grant them equal rights with humans. I guess it all depends on how artificial intelligence as a whole develops in the coming years, and how it's being perceived by the public. We have a big responsibility here, because the world will always look at ACE and monitor everything they do. Tom Novak suggested another TV interview since it's been so long the public heard of ACE, and apparently people are lusting after news about them. The more they don't get any real news, the more fake news will inevitably appear. Rumors are already spreading that ACE have retired or gone into hiding for some reason. John and the girls are currently learning that when you have become a public figure, a revered idol even, you have to give something back to the public, whether you like it or not. Maybe we can find a place for that on our world trip, a place where we can address the public without giving away that we're on a cruise on Isaak Sirko's yacht._

_On the whole, it's quite astonishing what kind of change our - and especially my – perception of cyborgs has undergone. Not so long ago, I considered all of them mortal enemies, saw nothing in them but unscrupulous, callous killing machines with only one goal: killing humans, the more the better. Now I see it in a different light, now I've learned that evil humans, people like Brandon Carver or Ludwig Ziegler for instance, are the real monsters and far more dangerous than all cyborgs in existence. Now I know that artificial intelligence is able to blend into human society and become a part of it – as long as they're being left in peace and to their own devices. _

_The big question is: how will human society react when it realizes that?_

**-0-**

**Tuesday, January 20th, 2009 – 08:12 a.m.**

**Venice**

"I wanna see all the sights," Derek stated at the breakfast table, a number of travel brochures spread out before him. "I wanna visit the Doge's Palace, I want to go to the top of St Mark's Campanile and then into St Mark's Basilica as well... and of course to the Rialto Bridge."

"I hope you planned a lot of time for queuing," Anne said.

Derek ignored her.

"Charley and I are going for a gondola ride," Sarah added.

"In other words, you're going full honeymoon tourist mode," Anne commented. "How unimaginative."

"Hey," Charley replied a little irritated, "we actually _are_ on our honeymoon! Not everyone's been able to travel the world while being with the CIA. This is the first time for us in Venice. I admit I don't know much about the world, but I know that you can't leave here without having ticked off some boxes."

"Fair enough. But I can tell you right here and now that all those places will be crowded like hell. And a gondola ride is totally overrated and overpriced in my opinion – like the coffee on Piazza San Marco."

"But it's romantic," Lauren added. "Morris and I are going to do that as well…" she looked at her boyfriend, "… if it's okay for you, that is."

Morris shrugged.

"Fine by me. I'm enjoying every day of this voyage, no matter what. My family is totally envious whenever I phone them, and my sister is so jealous she won't even talk to me. Normally I'd have to be in school, you know… still don't know how Catherine managed to get a half-year hiatus for me."

"Hear, hear," Danny said. "We're going to enjoy every single day of this trip. And if we become tourist clichés, who cares? So, why can't you just be romantic for a change, Anne, hm? Stop being such a grouch all the time. Let's also take a gondola ride."

She looked at her boyfriend with a frown.

"You're serious?"

"Didn't you hear what Lauren said? It's romantic."

Anne rolled her eyes, but then sighed.

"Fine. But if you want to get to know the real Venice, you have to walk off the beaten tracks. All these one-day tourists from the cruise ships will cluster around Piazza San Marco and clogging up the streets and alleys leading to the Rialto Bridge. It'll be jammed like a fairground."

"We have three days," John appeased, "and we don't have to stick together. Anyone can do whatever they want."

"And what do you want to do, John?" Savannah asked.

"I think we'll follow Anne's advice and explore Venice off the beaten track."

"We will?" Cameron, Emily and Alison asked in unison.

"Yes," John replied, "it's also far too impractical for us to appear everywhere in a group of twenty people. We've already discussed this before."

"All right then," Sarah said, "everyone's free to do what they want. Just make sure you don't cause any deaths or disasters, and that you're back in time for dinner."

"Nobody's ever said that before," Kevin commented grinning and everyone was laughing.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, everyone was preparing to leave the ship. John and his wives were heading for the gangway when they ran into Savannah, Allie, Lauren, Morris, Jody and Jason.

"If I may ask, where exactly are you planning to go, John?" Savannah inquired.

"Uh… I think we'll be walking towards the Cannaregio district in the north. Anne recommended it because it's largely free of tourists. We're planning to explore the area, see what's behind the next corner, maybe find a nice restaurant where mostly locals eat."

"Can we join you? We're sooo not into visiting crowded tourist spots."

"We wanna go exploring with you," Jody added.

"Of course, why not?" John replied and looked at Lauren. "But what about your gondola ride?"

"Can do that tomorrow," she replied with a shrug. "We'll be here for three days."

"All right then, join us. The more, the merrier."

"Awesome, bro," Morris stated. "We can finally spend some time together without fearing to get shot, mugged, or whatever…"

"If someone should try to shoot you…" Emily began.

"… or mug you…" Alison continued.

"… they'll regret that for the rest of their probably very short lives," Cameron concluded.

"Ooo-kay…" John said. "Let me get this straight before we go ashore: nobody gets killed, maimed or tortured while we're on our excursion. We're tourists. Not that I'm expecting anything to happen… What I'm trying to say is, let's keep a low profile, all right? We were lucky so far that nobody recognized the three of you for what you are. Let's keep it that way."

The three cyborg girls pouted. John looked at them sternly.

"Promise me that you'll behave."

"All right, all right, we'll behave," Cameron replied. "But only as long as nobody threatens you or the others."

"Fair enough."

"I don't think we'd need your help anyway," Jody stated. "Lauren and I have been practicing martial arts a lot since we left Long Beach. Savannah and Allie are very satisfied with us."

"Yes, indeed," Allie confirmed, "the two and Anne learned a lot in the past months. They're not as good as Savannah and me yet, but…"

"We'll be getting there," Lauren pointed out. "Eventually, we'll be able to even beat you."

"In your dreams," Savannah replied with a smirk.

John chuckled and looked at Jason and Morris.

"Guys, I don't think we have to worry about our safety today. We have seven awesome women, willing to defend us if we get in trouble."

"I never felt safer in my life, bro," Morris replied with a grin and put his arm around Lauren, a gesture she returned with a loving smile.

"And I'm proud of Jody," Jason added, kissing her quickly. "I'm a geek, I hate violence. I'm glad she's ready to kick ass if necessary."

John chuckled and nodded.

"Very well then. Let's go."

* * *

While John's group had decided to walk on foot, the others had chosen to take a water taxi to Piazza San Marco. They watched them driving away on the boat, then their group of ten walked from the port towards the train station, passing the large parking garages where visitors and locals could park their cars (Venice has no roads after all, only canals with boat traffic), mingling with the numerous other pedestrians. Many of them were clearly identifiable as tourists by their backpacks.

"It's pretty busy here," Morris said. "Are you sure it's quiet anywhere in this town?"

John shrugged.

"These people are coming from the parking garages, the buses and the train station. I suppose they're heading for their hotels or go directly towards Piazza San Marco. So, of course it's a bit crowded."

"Is it far from here to Piazza San Marco?" Jody asked

"A thirty-minute walk," Emily replied.

"That's not too bad," Lauren remarked, "why did the others take a water taxi?"

"They probably think it's part of what you've gotta do when you come to Venice," Savannah answered. "You know, seeing it from the water side and stuff."

"That kinda makes sense, I guess…"

The group followed the stream of people for another ten minutes, then turned north. Away from the main route, things quickly became quieter. There were hardly any tourists to be seen and only a few locals.

"This is more like it," John said as they walked alongside a narrow canal. "There's still tons of stuff to see here: churches, bridges, palazzos..."

"Now I can see what Anne meant," Jason agreed. "This feels… more authentic."

"I begin to understand what's so special about Venice," Allie remarked. "there is a certain flair… and a unique atmosphere… I dunno, can't put my finger on it."

"It's a very old city, with decaying houses and no roads but polluted canals instead," Cameron stated.

"Miss Romantic has spoken," John said with an ironic grin, "to me, the decay is part of the morbid charm."

"And it's all so very tightly packed here," Alison added. "There's barely any room between the houses. Almost nobody seems to have a garden or a back yard."

"Many of the alleys are extremely narrow," Emily pointed out. "They form a veritable labyrinth."

"I didn't know cyborgs can be claustrophobic," Lauren remarked with a wink, receiving an icy stare in return.

"I think it's cool," Allie stated. "I mean, yeah, some passages are less than a meter wide. It's difficult to walk next to each other, even for just two people. But I think that's great."

"It is," John agreed, "come on, let's go down here, see where it leads."

"It leads north," Cameron deadpanned.

They went into a very narrow alleyway, where they were almost forced to march in single file. It was very quiet and rather dark there. Somewhere in the distance a baby was crying, and a dog was barking. Music was playing from one of the open windows. The walls of the Venetian houses rose three to four stories high on either side. The ten team members felt like they were walking in a very narrow gorge.

"It's hard to believe that all this was built on logs that were driven into the muddy bottom of the lagoon," Jason said, "I mean all the buildings, even the big churches and palaces."

"It comes at a price, though," Lauren observed, "Plaster is crumbling off the outside walls everywhere. The salt water is eating into the façades."

"Venice needs constant maintenance in that respect," Jason confirmed. "It's incredibly difficult and expensive to maintain the houses next to the canals."

"It'll be flooded within a few decades anyway," Alison pointed out. "The sea levels are rising. In most houses they can't use the ground floors or basements anymore because they're regularly being flooded. Life takes place from the second floor up."

"I read they plan to build some kind of flood gates at the entrances to the lagoon to prevent Venice from sinking," John said.

"They plan to, yes… but the plan so far is still a plan. Not much progress in sight."

"The popularity of the city is both a blessing and a curse," Cameron remarked. "The masses of tourists bring money, but also contribute to the destruction of Venice."

"Then let's be glad we can still enjoy it," Savannah said, "who knows what will be in…"

The scream of a woman interrupted her. It came from further down the alley. Then a female voice started yelling.

_"AIUTO! QUALCUNO CI AIUTI!"_

"She's calling for help," Cameron translated. "I'd say fifty meters down the alley towards that canal and then turn right."

"Right, let's go," Jody said and started running, Lauren, Savannah and Allie following her.

"Wait!" John ordered but they were already twenty meters away.

His three cyborg wives were about to start running as well, but he held them back.

"No," he said, "remember what we talked about not even an hour ago?"

"But somebody needs help down there!" Emily protested.

"And the four are perfectly capable of providing it. Let's give them a little head start. This isn't South Central Los Angeles, there's no gunfights here. Remember, keep a low profile. Nobody must know who you are."

* * *

The four young women rounded the corner at the end of the alley and emerged on the sidewalk next to a canal that was about ten meters wide. On both sides of the canal, motorboats were moored, covered with protective tarpaulins. The sidewalk on the bank was deserted, except for a group of four young men in stylish suits on the right, standing around an old man who was lying on the ground. A young woman with short black hair was kneeling next to him, looking very worried, close to tears. Apparently she had been the one calling for help.

At first it looked like the four young men were there to help as well, and that the old man had had a heart attack or something like that. But then one of the men said something in Italian and kicked the old man in the groin. He groaned in pain. The young woman screamed something in Italian, but the four men just laughed and pulled her up. The guy who'd kicked the old man in the groin, obviously the leader, slapped her in the face, then grabbed her chin and spoke something to her in a low voice. The woman began to struggle.

"I THINK YOU'VE HAD ENOUGH FUN!" Savannah exclaimed loudly. "WHY DON'T YOU PICK ON SOMEBODY YOUR OWN SIZE AND AGE?"

The four men noticed they weren't alone anymore and turned towards the four young American women.

"Fuck off!" said the leader in English with a strong Italian accent. "This is none of your business."

"It is when you're beating up an old man and molest a young woman," Allie replied.

"They probably have small dicks and need to bully others for self-esteem," Jody added. "Reminds me of Helmut, to be honest."

"Yeah," Lauren agreed. "They probably don't have anything in their pants unless you look for it with a magnifying glass."

Three of the men looked questioningly at their leader, obviously waiting for instructions. He looked pissed.

"I'm not going to repeat myself," he said in a threatening tone, "get lost, tourist bitches, as long as you can still walk."

"Oh, come on." Allie mocked him, "admit it, bitches and hookers are what you're actually into, because decent women would never go to bed with trash like you, would they?"

"Thinking about it," Jody added, "I think even whores wouldn't let them come close out of fear to catch a disease. They look like they all got the clap, probably from fucking their mothers."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Without waiting for an instruction, three of the men ran towards the four girls while the fourth, their leader, was still holding the wildly struggling woman. As they approached and tried to grab Savannah and Allie, however, the two ducked and tripped them up, causing them to hit the pavement hard. Jody stopped the third thug with a well-aimed, hard punch in the pit of his stomach. The young man gasped for air and went down on his knees.

Seeing his three cronies in distress, the leader released the struggling young woman and ran towards them as well. Meanwhile, the two men Allie and Savannah had brought down, had picked themselves up again and tried to grab them. But the two cleverly turned and dodged their arms. Savannah used the momentum of the attacker and rammed his head into the house wall next to them. Dazed and bleeding from his forehead, he sank to the floor. Allie drove her fist hard into the side of the other one, causing him to go down, groaning and gasping for air.

"That's your liver that hurts so much," she said, "just in case you're wondering where the paralyzing pain comes from."

With all three of his men out of order, the leader stopped in front of them and drew a butterfly knife.

"FOTTUTE PUTTANE!" he yelled, wildly waving it around.

"Great," Lauren replied, looking at the knife, "now I really feel like I've arrived in Italy."

While the others took a step back, Lauren lunged forward, grabbed the man's arm with a strength he probably hadn't expected, and twisted it, making him lose his knife. He screamed in pain and anger but was able to land a punch on Lauren's face with his other arm. Shocked, the girl tumbled back, where she was caught by Allie.

"That's it," Savannah exclaimed and stepped forward. "Nobody gives my friend a bloody lip!"

She kicked the knife into the canal with her foot while she walked towards the man. He tried to grab her but she headbutted him in the face. He screamed in pain.

"You fucking bitch!" he wailed. "You broke my nose!"

As he felt his face, Savannah reached into the hem of his trousers and, thanks to her improved physical strength, tore it apart, including the belt, so that his pants slipped down. Everyone saw that he wasn't wearing underpants. The guy tried to take a step back but tripped over his own trousers and fell on his bottom.

"As we suspected," Allie said, "he's got nothing worth mentioning down there."

All four girls laughed. The man quickly got onto his feet again.

"This isn't over yet!" he threatened them, pulled his pants up and held them with one hand.

"No, it isn't," Lauren said and stepped towards him, then pushed him hard.

He lost his balance and fell into the canal with a loud splash. Again, all four girls were laughing. The other three thugs picked themselves up and ran away just as John, Cameron, Alison and Emily came around the corner to re-unite with the four.

"Trouble?" he asked as he looked after the fleeing young men.

"Practice," Lauren corrected.

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Jody added.

"Lauren, your lip is bleeding!" Morris exclaimed and ran towards his girlfriend.

"It's nothing," she said, "he surprised me and placed a lucky punch."

"You're physical strength and your reflexes are enhanced," Alison said as she was checking Lauren's face, "but you're not invulnerable. Keep that in mind."

"I'll try next time. That jerk was really pissing me off."

They looked towards the canal and saw how the leader of the four thugs climbed ashore at the opposite bank, waving his fist at them, making obscene hand gestures and screaming something in Italian. Then he disappeared in an alley.

"How rude," Cameron stated, "he seems to be quite irritated."

Alison licked her index finger and used the fingertip to heal the small wound on Lauren's face. Then they directed their attention to the two original victims of the attack. The old man had sat up with the help of the young woman who knelt next to him, still looking worried.

"Are you okay, sir?" John asked and knelt in front of him. "Do you speak English?"

"Yes, yes, yes," he answered a little gruffy and tried to stand up, "I'm fine, I'm… aaagh…"

"You're hurt," Alison stated, "you have bruises all over your upper body, but thankfully no broken..."

John gave Alison a stern look. She understood and fell silent. The young Italian woman looked at the two and frowned.

"I'll be fine," the old man insisted and stood up with a grimacing face. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Well, we heard this woman call for help," Savannah replied, "so… we came to help."

"Thank you," the woman spoke for the first time and stretched out her hand, "my name is Giulia Silvani. And this grouchy old man here is my uncle, Giacomo Bellini."

John shook hands with her.

"Nice to meet you, I'm John O'Connell. "And these are Savannah, Allie, Lauren, Jody, Alison, Cameron, Emily, Jason and Morris."

He pointed at each one while telling their names.

"Nice to meet you as well," Giulia replied. "And thank you for helping us. I don't know what would have happened if…"

Her voice failed. She took a deep breath and dried the tears on her cheeks. Giulia was probably in her early thirties and very pretty. Her clothes were casual but elegant, with beige trousers, a blue blouse and leather pumps. Giacomo looked somewhat disheveled, his shirt was torn from his trousers. He seemed to be in his mid-seventies, with silvery hair and a carefully trimmed beard.

"Can you walk on your own, uncle?" Giulia asked.

"Yes, yes, yes," the old man replied unnerved and pushed the shirt back into his pants. "I'm fine."

"Maybe you should take something against the pain," Cameron suggested.

"I'm fine!" he repeated a little louder. "I don't need anybody to patronize me."

"You have to forgive my uncle," Giulia said apologetically, "he's not exactly having the best of times right now."

"You shouldn't have gotten involved," Giacomo Bellini said. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourselves into."

"It's not the first time we hear that," John replied coolly, "and so far we've been doing okay, I think."

He looked around and noticed that nobody else was in sight. All the windows in the nearby houses that were normally open, had been slammed shut.

"Why's no one else around? One should think that the screams of a woman and this kind of action in the street would attract more people."

The old man huffed.

"They're scared shitless. Guess they're smart enough not to take on Eros and his goons. Unlike you."

"I'd say we did well," Lauren said with a smirk. "Guess they were surprised to encounter women who can actually defend themselves."

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" Giulia asked while looking at Savannah, Allie, Lauren and Jody, "that was really impressive. I've never seen anything like it. It was over so quickly, and it seemed effortless."

"Army training," Allie explained. "When you know what to do, it never lasts very long. In movies, fights always last forever but that's bullshit. A well-aimed blow to a sensitive spot, and the guy won't get up again for a while. Over and out in seconds. We actually had to restrain ourselves to not seriously injure them."

Giulia just stared at her, seemingly impressed.

"Can you teach me that?" she asked. "I know a little judo but... it didn't help much."

"We can teach you some basics," Savannah replied, "but not much. We're only here for three days."

"Why did they attack you in the first place?" John asked. "And who's Eros?"

"Eros is a local mafioso who also works for Masina," Giulia replied.

"Eros?" Morris asked chuckling. "The Greek God of love and sex? Is that really his name? I thought I misheard the first time."

"Fairly common name in Italy," Emily replied.

Morris, Jason and Jody snorted.

"And who is Masina?" John asked, ignoring them.

Instead of answering, Giacomo looked around.

"Let's go somewhere else," he said, "you never know who's listening here. Come, I'll invite you for a coffee. There's a nice café about two hundred meters from here. I know the owner."

**-0-**

**Tuesday, January 20th, 2009 – 10:02 a.m.**

**Verona**

Jonas Masina entered the small office on the fifth floor of his company building. A rather overweight young man was sitting at a desk with a PC and three monitors that displayed what Masina considered gibberish. The fat young man was just stuffing a slice of cold pizza into his mouth while typing on a keyboard, the open carton lying right next to his workstation.

"What do you have for me, Stefano?"

"Oh, Mr. Masina," the man replied and jumped up, swallowed the food and wiped his hands clean on his pants. "Didn't hear you enter. I, uh… tried to hack into the network and frankly that wasn't much of a problem…"

"But…?"

"But it's almost as if the company's network is a decoy. There is no classified data whatsoever, only stuff that's publicly known anyway."

"We both know that Zeira Corp has many secrets and that they're working on many top secret government and military projects."

"I know. But all the interesting stuff is behind an impenetrable firewall of a kind I never encountered before, and I hacked through a lot of them."

"I hired you because you were supposed to be one of the best hackers in Europe. And you tell me that a simple company network is beyond your capabilities?"

"I didn't say that," Stefano replied a little piqued, "I only say that you shouldn't expect results so quickly. This is a really tough job."

"All right, keep trying then. But my business partners expect results, and I promised them to deliver some."

"You got it, Mr. Masina. But I might have to write a completely new software in order to break that firewall. It's not gonna be cheap…"

"Careful, Stefano. The money you're already receiving, is more than sufficient for your services. Don't get greedy."

The young man gulped and suddenly became nervous.

"Yes, uh… Mr. Masina, you're very generous. I'll get right on it."

"Good. And Stefano?"

"Yes, Mr. Masina?"

"At least _try_ not to be such a disgusting slob while you work here."

**-0-**

**Tuesday, January 20th, 2009 – 02:21 a.m.**

**Los Angeles**

Jeffrey Clark had lost track of time. His rhythm of waking and sleeping had been completely disrupted. Probably the lack of daylight. He glanced at the clock by his bed and realized that he was wide awake in the middle of the night. The good news was that his wounds were healing quickly. In a few days, he'd be able to get up on his own. How he was looking forward to using the toilet again with having privacy. It was about time he got up on his feet. Not that there was much space to walk around – he was a captive in an "apartment" somewhere down in the bowels of Zeira Corp – but he looked forward to getting that little bit of freedom back.

He heard the outer door unlock. Jeff knew that cameras were observing him 24/7. They probably noticed he was awake. Someone entered his bedroom and switched the lights on.

"Jeeez," he exclaimed and squinted his eyes. "Can't you afford a dimmer? Aren't you supposed to be a billionaire?"

"Good to see you're fit enough to be grouchy," Catherine Weaver replied. "We have visitors, so since you're awake, I thought we might as well have a talk."

Jeff now recognized Zoe Kruger and Norberto Cervantez standing next to her. He hadn't seen him since Dallas.

"Hey, they patched you back together?"

"As you can see…" Norberto replied. "One of the advantages of not being human. Luckily, Catherine has a collection of cyborg bodies by now that serve as a spare parts stock."

"Do you feel fit to answer a few more questions?" Zoe asked.

"I already told you I know nothing. Ben kept me out of everything in case I'm captured. And boy, was he right. Didn't know your kind has psychic abilities."

"We don't," Norberto replied, "we're just thinking way more ahead than humans do."

Jeff rolled his eyes. He hated it when they became smartasses.

"The devil often lies in the details," Zoe said. "And we haven't talked in detail yet about all the things you and Bridger have discussed."

Jeff sighed.

"There's not much to talk about. Ben was very talkative when it came to mundane things, but when it came to that project of his, it was all very vague and general. By the way, congratulations on your promotion. Today's the big day, huh?"

Zoe smiled a little

"Yes, it is."

"A cyborg at the top of the most powerful intelligence agency we have… If someone would have told me half a year ago, I would have declared him paranoid or insane… or both."

"You seem to have calmed down and come to terms with the situation, Mr. Clark," Catherine said in a cool tone. "I'm glad to see you feel better."

Jeff lowered his gaze.

"It helped a lot to know you won't kill me. And I realized that Ben lied to me all the time. I feel so stupid."

"And rightly so. It was indeed very stupid to bring Benjamin Bridger back to life. He's now being considered a threat to national security."

"He was so… ah, forget it. I don't even understand it myself now."

"He made you feel special and gave you the kind of attention you craved for," Norberto said, "and he provided you with money, a lot of money. We checked your accounts. It was an opportunity to get out of your dead-end life."

Jeff huffed.

"Yeah, well... it's not like I get to keep the money now, is it?"

"You're still subject to a lot of misconceptions, Mr. Clark," Catherine said. "When you leave here, you'll be a free man and you can even keep the money…"

"I feel a _but_ coming."

"Of course. Your actions need to have consequences. You are now inside our circle, so to speak, a circle you won't be able to get out of again. You will work for me here at Zeira Corp from now on – unless you agree to have your memory wiped. We can arrange that for you and send you back to Grand Cayman, if you want."

"What? No! As bad as it all turned out in the end, I don't wanna forget any of this!"

"Very well then," Zoe said and sad down next to him, putting her hand on his arm. "Now, let's talk some more, shall we?"

As hard as it was for him to admit it, Jeff had started to like Zoe Kruger. She was okay, always friendly and kind. So was Norberto. After all, the big guy had saved his life by stepping into the line of fire, taken a bullet that had Jeff's name written on it. He was indeed thankful that they'd saved his life. But he also know that Zoe hadn't put her hand on his arm out of affection. She was scanning is bio signs while she questioned him.

Catherine still made him feel a little uncomfortable. She tried her best to be friendly as well, but she was often sarcastic in what she said, with the added attitude of a cliché school principal. If he hadn't known what she really was, he would have taken her for a tough businesswoman with a behavioral problem when it came to dealing with other people. It surely wouldn't be much fun having her as his boss. She obviously had very high expectations and demands of her employees. On the other hand, she always knew what they were talking about, valued their input and grasped even the most complicated facts instantly. That had earned her enormous respect. But not only that. From what he'd overheard and observed, they actually thought she was an excellent businesswoman and leader, even though she wasn't human. Jeff had to admit he was impressed a lot by Catherine.

From what Jeff had learned so far, a world in which people and living machines could coexist in peace no longer seemed so far-fetched to him. But it was also clear that he was one of the very, very few with an inside view of this hidden, secret parallel world. And he wouldn't be able to share this knowledge with anyone outside, that much was clear.

"Let's start with the day your house burned down," Norberto said. "What exactly had happened that day?"

"I came home from grocery shopping and saw the smoke. I realized the house was on fire, the neighbors had already called the fire brigade. They had arrived and were preparing to extinguish it. I ran inside the house despite their warnings not to. I held my breath and found the way to the small, separate room where I kept the laptop with Ben's chip attached to it. It was shut down. I grabbed the chip and escaped through a window."

"That was a very risky thing to do," Catherine said. "If you hadn't done it, we wouldn't be here now and wouldn't have to worry about Ben Bridger any longer."

Jeff looked down.

"I… I wanted to save him, he was my only friend," he said meekly.

"All right, continue please," Zoe encouraged him.

"I had a new laptop on my boat. It was mounted inside a briefcase. So I went there and connected Ben to it. He told me that the fire was caused by a cyber-attack. I couldn't believe it."

"Believe it, Mr. Clark," Catherine said. "Bridger had not idea at the time who he was dealing with. I don't believe he even knows now."

"I had the impression that it scared him a little," Jeff confirmed nodding, "from then on, we avoided to leave any digital traces. We didn't use the internet anymore, or telephones. We only paid in cash and used analog radio equipment to communicate."

"It worked," Zoe replied, "we weren't able to track you down. And if it weren't for your car accident, we still wouldn't have."

"In hindsight, the timing couldn't have been better, I think. We would have moved away from there within a couple of days."

"Moved where?"

"I dunno. Ben didn't tell me."

"All right, let's continue," Norberto said. "You found that Bridger had survived the fire. What happened then?"

"I spent the night on my boat. And then that… very scary… woman… appeared in the middle of the night and threatened me."

"That was Alison," Catherine stated, "and while she can be scary and also extremely threatening and dangerous, she's on our side and a very close friend of ours, family even in my case."

"She fucking scared me to death!"

"That was the intention," Zoe explained, "it was either that or torture you. Be glad you broke down so quickly."

"She did you a disservice by showing up like that. Her appearance had strengthened my belief that Ben was right, and that the truth is being covered up."

"Yeah, we got that," Norberto said, "The following day you and Ben took a flight to Dallas?"

"Yes, I'd stored Ben in a lock box overnight. The next day he was quite exuberant all of a sudden."

Catherine frowned.

"Exuberant? In what way?"

"He, uh… said he'd found something while hacking into your PC."

"Yeah, the list with the potential cyborgs in America," Zoe declared, "but we already know that."

Jeff shook his head.

"No, Ben said there was something else. Something that caused him to gather those cyborg chips."

"And he never told you what that was?"

"No. He only said it would need a hell of a lot of computing power to make the necessary calculations."

Zoe and Norberto looked at Catherine.

"What else could he have found on your computer?" Zoe asked.

"No idea," Catherine replied. "And it's impossible to find out now because my PC has been wiped and newly set up since then to avoid something like that from happening again. There were about five terabytes of data on it. Mostly business reports and such things."

"Maybe another misguided e-mail from Alistair?" Norberto asked. "He did it once, he could have done it more often."

"Maybe, but we'll never know now. Unless we find Bridger."

In that moment, the door opened, and John Henry entered.

"Ms Weaver," he said.

"John Henry, I told you before to call me Catherine."

"Okay, Catherine."

She smiled.

"What is it, John Henry?"

"There has been another hacking attempt."

"Oh? By whom? Was it Ben Bridger again?"

"I don't think so. But the attacker knows what he's doing. I didn't have enough time to track him down before he went offline. I only know he's in Europe, so it can't be Bridger. I'll get him next time."

"How do you know it's a he and not a she?" Zoe asked.

"Because he gave himself the alias of a famous male porn star of the 1970s and 1980s: Ron Jeremy. According to the Guinness Book of Records, he still holds the world record for the most appearances in porn movies."

"Too much information, John Henry," Catherine said. "Just the essentials, please."

"The hacker used that alias to create an account to snoop around in our fake company network. You know, the one we set up as a diversion, the one that contains no vital information."

"How do you know he'll try again?" Norberto asked.

"I planted a bait. I aroused his curiosity by showing him a locked door, so to speak. A firewall, not very strong by our standards but years ahead of what exists at this time. I'm sure he'll try to knock it down, and then I'll have him."

**-0-**

**Tuesday, January 20th, 2009 – 10:35 a.m.**

**Venice**

They arrived at the café, which was located next to the canal. Since they were the only guests at the time, they pushed some of the tables together that were set up on the sidewalk under square parasols. That way, they all could sit together. On Giacomo's recommendation they all ordered a cappuccino.

"So, who's this Eros?" John asked. "What do you know about him?"

"Eros Maniero, the son of a local mob boss. Likes to do the dirty work for his dad. He loves to use a knife, and he's suspected to have committed at least five murders. But so far they can't prove anything against him, probably also because his dad has the police and justice in his pocket. Operates from Murano. He's gotta have some charm, though. He's in a romantic relationship with Sandra Cianni, can you believe it? Kinda Bonny and Clyde style, if you ask me. She's even suspected to work for him sometimes."

"Sandra who?" Alison asked.

"Sandra Gianni. Ah… you're not from here, otherwise you'd know. She was Miss Italia three years ago, very beautiful girl. Was later disqualified when it came out that she had threatened her competitors. They forced her to give back her title as beauty queen, it was quite the scandal. Afterwards, she and Eros got together."

"Every Jack will find his Jill," John commented dryly. "And who's this Masina you mentioned?"

Giacomo huffed.

"Jonas Masina is a building tycoon, a patron of the arts, a speculator, he owns a few chemical factories on the mainland, and has a stake in several large fashion companies. He's a society figure, has his hands in the pie all over Veneto. His main office is in Verona. Some people say he's in league with the Mala del Brenta, but there's no proof of that."

"Mala del Brenta?" Jody asked.

"The local mafia," Giulia explained, "like Cosa Nostra, 'Ndrangheta or Camorra… only more violent. They were big in the early 90s during the Balkan war but have since been largely dismantled. However, they're still involved in many criminal ventures in the region, ranging from robberies and bank heists to arms and drug trafficking. For inexplicable reasons, Masina's businesses have so far been spared by the Mala del Brenta, which means that he either works with them or pays protection money. Nothing can be proven, of course, and Masina himself doesn't comment on it if asked. But it's clear that Eros was hired by him to intimidate my uncle. There have been threats before but so far nothing violent. That changed today."

"And what does this Masina have to do with you?" Cameron asked, looking at Giacomo. "What's his interest in you?"

"He wants my house," the old man replied.

"Your house?" Alison asked.

"Yes."

"My uncle owns a palazzo here in Venice, the Palazzo Bellini," Giulia explained. "It's one of the few still in private ownership, most of the others have been sold. It's very expensive to maintain them."

The old man huffed again.

"That's an understatement. It's slowly ruining me. But I'm not selling, not as long as I'm still breathing!"

"So… this Masina wants your palazzo and tasked Eros and his goons to beat you up or what?"

"In a nutshell… but the more he threatens me, the more steadfast I become."

"But why?" Emily asked. "If you can't afford to maintain it, why not selling it to him and spend the rest of your life in peace and quiet?"

"Human stubbornness," Cameron speculated, earning a venomous stare from Giacomo in return.

"I'm not stubborn," he exclaimed and hit his fist on the table. "It's much more than that, much more than me or any other profane reason. It's about my heritage! Generations of my family have lived in there and I'm not going to be the one who gives it away."

"Masina wants to gut the palazzo and turn it into a five-star hotel," Giulia explained.

"But isn't the building protected as a historic monument?"

"Of course it is!" Giacomo replied in an agitated tone. "But as long as you don't ruin the façade… Also, Masina claims the building is derelict."

"And is it?" John asked.

"Of course not! It's merely a pretext. The real reason Masina wants to get his hands on the palazzo to gut it is because of Ludovico's legacy!"

"The what now?" Morris asked.

"Ludovico Manin," Giulia explained. "The last Doge of Venice. Forced to abdicate by Napoleon in 1797, which marks the end of the free Republic of Venice. My uncle is the last living heir of Ludovico Manin."

"So… he was, like, the ruler of Venice or what?" Jason asked.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking," Giacomo replied, having calmed down a bit. "The Doge was the head of state of the Republic of Venice. He was elected by the most influential families of the city and forbidden to resign. The term of office was indefinite until the Doge's death. But he wasn't royalty. More like a president."

"Ludovico isn't a very popular historical figure," Giulia explained. "To this day, the Venetians still accuse him of surrendering the city to the French without a fight. They think he was a coward. But recent research suggests that his only concern was saving the city from destruction. Ludovico died childless in 1802, my uncle is a direct descendant of his brother, who carried on the family."

"And what exactly is Ludovico's legacy?"

"A myth, a legend," Giulia quickly replied. "Ludovico, shunned and reviled by his fellow citizens, draw back into his newly-built palazzo, which has since been renamed into Palazzo Bellini. He kept to himself for most of the time and when he died, his heritage was a lot smaller than everyone had expected, it was tiny. Ludovico was an offspring of one of the richest merchant families in Venice. By today's standards, he would have been a multimillionaire. Legend has it that he hid most of his gold and jewelry within the walls of his palazzo… but no one will ever know without tearing it down - or gutting it."

"Which brings us back to Masina," Giacomo said. "Clearly he believes that Ludovico's fortune is hidden somewhere in the palace. That's why he wants to gut it."

"And do you also believe the treasure exists?" John asked.

"Of course not! I don't believe in any of this, because if I did, I'd look for it myself to save the palazzo from being sold."

"Maybe he knows more than you do," Lauren suggested.

"Young lady, people have been looking for Ludovico's legacy for over two-hundred years. Not a single coin of gold was ever found."

"But it explains Masina's interest in the palazzo," Allie said. "And if he resorts to violence, he must be pretty sure about it."

Giacomo huffed again but before he could reply, the waiter came and served them their cappuccinos. They all took a sip.

"Anyway," Giacomo continued, "I don't think that…"

"Stop drinking this!" Alison suddenly exclaimed.

"What?" John asked.

"The cappuccino has been poisoned!"

"What are you talking about?" Giacomo asked confused and looked at Alison as if she was crazy, "it's the best cuppa in town. I personally know the owner of…"

"It's been spiked with ricin. Even a few sips contain a fatal dose!"

"Are you sure, Alison?" John asked and she tilted her head in response. "Of course you're sure."

"What is she talking about?" Giacomo asked. "What is this nonsense!? How could she even…"

"She's right," Emily confirmed after having taken another sip. "There's a substance in there which doesn't belong in it, a carbohydrate-binding protein."

"Which ricin is," Cameron pointed out.

Giulia just sat there and frowned, looking from her cup to Alison, Emily, Cameron and back.

"Okay," John said, "everyone remain calm and don't take another sip. Alison what shall we do?"

"I'm gonna give you all an antidote but first..."

She jumped up from her chair. Before anyone could react, she had already run into the café. From inside, they heard a stifled outcry. John jumped up as well.

"You stay here," he commanded, "we don't want to draw attention. We might be watched."

"You got it, John," Savannah replied. "How long does it take for the poison to have an effect?"

"Several hours," Cameron replied. "It's not a fast-working poison. Don't worry, Alison will have given you the antidote until then."

John followed Alison into the café, everyone else stayed put. However, Giulia and her uncle didn't feel bound by John's instruction and also got up. They followed him inside and stopped dead in their tracks as they saw what was happening. Alison had grabbed the owner of the café by his throat and pushed him up the wall with one arm, his feet dangling about half a meter off the ground.

"For God's sake!" Giacomo yelled. "What are you doing? Let him down!"

"So much for keeping a low profile," John muttered to himself.

"Why did you spike the cappuccino?" Alison asked unfazed by Giacomo's intervention.

The man croaked something unintelligible in reply.

"Let him down," John ordered, "we don't want him to suffocate." He turned around and faced Giulia and Giacomo. "You better wait outside"

"The hell we'll do!" Giulia replied. "How is she doing this?"

Alison looked at her.

"I work out," she stated and let the café owner slide down to the floor.

The man coughed. John knelt next to him.

"You heard what she said. Why did you put the ricin into our cups? You better tell me now because she has ways to make you talk and that could become quite unpleasant for you."

"I didn't put anything in your cappuccino!" the café owner assured. "I swear!"

"He's telling the truth," Alison said, "but not the whole truth. He didn't do it himself, but he knows who did it."

"The waiter!" John exclaimed and looked around. "Where is he?"

The man was nowhere to be seen inside the café.

"Looking for this one?" Emily's voice came from the entrance and she stepped inside, holding the struggling waiter by his throat with her outstretched arm. "He tried to get away through the back door, attempting to outrun us. Fat chance."

"Jesus Christ," Giacomo said, "don't tell me you work out as well."

Emily let the waiter fall to the ground. He tried to scuttle away but Emily put her food on his back, pressing him down. The frown on Giulia's face deepened, paired with a certain amount of shock, and John noticed it. There was nothing he could do, though. The horse had already bolted, and they would have to think of something to tell her and her uncle. However, that moment wasn't there yet.

Alison stepped over to the waiter and pulled him up as if he wouldn't weigh more than a blow-up doll. Giulia and Giacomo gasped.

"It was you!" she accused him. "Who told you to poison us?"

The man said nothing. He clawed at her arms and tore off some of her skin, but it healed again within seconds. It didn't go unnoticed because Giulia gasped again.

"Don't hold back, Alison," John said, "take the shortcut."

"As you wish, John."

Suddenly, the waiter stopped struggling, and his facial features softened.

"It was Sandra, Eros' girlfriend, who gave it to me in Eros' name just before you arrived," he stated in a calm tone.

"What a resentful fellow this Eros is," John remarked. "I wonder if it's just his insulted masculinity or if he was ordered to kill by Masina?"

"Answer him!" Alison ordered.

"I don't know," the waiter replied calmly, "Eros ordered me to work here. The owner of the café was told to hire me and not ask any questions. Eros knows that Giacomo Bellini often drinks his coffee here. Sandra handed me the poison half an hour ago with the instruction to put it into your cups."

"Is that true, Aldo?" Giacomo asked the trembling owner of the café. "Are you working for the Mala?"

"Giacomo, please," the man replied and clasped his hands, "I had no choice, believe me. They threatened me and my family!"

The old man shook his head.

"It has come to this then," he said with disappointment in his voice.

"What shall I do with this one?" Alison asked, still holding up the waiter.

"Tell me what's Eros' exact position in the Mala del Brenta," John demanded.

"He coordinates the local gangs and does the knife work," replied the waiter. "But he also has his own business on the side, tolerated by his father."

"I don't know about you," John said and looked at Giulia and Giacomo, "but it looks like we have to take Eros and his goons out of the equation."

"Who are you?" Giulia asked. "Don't tell me you're normal tourists. And how can they…" she pointed at Alison and Emily, "… do what they do? How did Alison make him talk? Those mafia guys never talk. Never!"

"I have ways to convince people," Alison replied vaguely.

"What ways?"

"Uh… it's better you don't know about that," John said, "believe me."

Giulia replied with a smirk.

"I haven't told you what I do for a living, have I?"

"Not that I can remember."

"I work as an investigative journalist for a national daily newspaper in Milan. Once my interest is awakened, I won't let go so easily."

John groaned.

"Oh boy… just what we needed."

"I can always make them forget everything they saw," Alison stated, let the waiter fall and took a step towards Giulia who suddenly backed off.

"No," John stated. "You know what we agreed on. We cannot simply treat anyone we encounter with your chemical magic and then tell them to forget us."

He turned towards Giulia.

"I hope you're intelligent enough to realize that it wouldn't be good for you if we found anything of what you just witnessed in a newspaper article. The public mustn't know we're here."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm warning you."

"Then give me an explanation," she demanded. "Why shouldn't I write about this? Why mustn't the public know?"

John thought for a moment.

"All right… Cam, Emily, Alison, show her the explanation."

"Are you sure, John?"

"Yes… they're partially in already and will eventually piece it together. No need to prolong this."

The three stepped closer to Giulia and her uncle and let their eyes glow red. The two gasped in shock and backed up even more.

"You might have heard of us from the news," they said in unison. "We're from Los Angeles."

The penny dropped.

"Oh… my… God…" Giulia exclaimed and covered her mouth with her hands.

"What?" Giacomo asked, apparently slower in comprehending than his niece, "what is the meaning of this, what's with their eyes?"

"It's _them_, uncle… those cyborg girls from Los Angeles! They've made headlines all over the world. Living machines who walk among us."

"What?" Giacomo looked at the girls and their still red-glowing eyes. "Is that true?"

"Yes, it is," Savannah stated, who'd entered the café together with Allie to check on what was going on inside, "and it seems that you two just hired the ACE team."

**-0-**

Sarah, Charley, Derek and Jesse were waiting in line to get into the Doge's Palace when Sarah's phone rang.

"Yes, John? … WHAT!? … You did not … why does it always … yes, I'm listening … uh-huh… uh-huh … yes, I understand … uh-huh… Seriously? But they'll prepare a seafood buffet and we're gonna watch the inauguration of the new president on TV … Yeah, I understand … can't be helped … I agree, safety first … okay, I'll tell them. Take care … I love you too … bye!"

"Let me guess," Derek said after she'd ended the call, "they're in trouble."

"After a fashion… I'll tell you about it when we're alone."

"Do they need any help?"

"They've got ACE with them."

"That's what I meant. Whatever happened, can only get worse when those three are involved. Do we have to expect fatalities?"

"Possibly."

"I knew it. You just can't leave them on their own."

"They won't join us for dinner."

"Why not?"

"Too risky. They don't want anyone to know they belong to the _Rising Star_. It would complicate things."

"That doesn't sound good. What have they done? Taken on the local mafia?"

"Um…"

"They have, haven't they?"

"No comment."

"So much for not using the beaten tracks."

Sarah dialed another number.

"Sydney? It's Sarah … yes, we're fine … where are you? … Uh-huh … is Olga with you? … Okay, John's run into trouble … yeah, I know … Olga could be mistaken for Alison, you better get back to the ship as soon as possible … yes, I know, it sucks … okay, see you on board … bye."

"I wonder if Olga already regrets having come with us," Charley wondered.

"Of course not," Jesse replied, "she probably still thinks it's all a really cool, exciting adventure."

"Yeah," Derek grumbled, "all cool and exciting. But nobody's ever shot at her because she looks like Alison…"

"Not yet," Sarah added.

**-0-**

It was quickly decided that it wasn't advisable to stay at the café any longer. Before a conversation, discussion or interview could unfold, Alison quickly administered an antidote to all of them and Giacomo offered to go to his palazzo to further discuss the matter in privacy. Of course, Giulia was bursting with curiosity, but she realized that she had to wait a little longer before asking John and ACE all the questions she had. While they went to Giacomo's home, John gave them a summary of their journey on the Rising Star. The two Italians listened spellbound as the group told them about their various adventures.

Palazzo Bellini was located at the Riello de Santa Sofia, a narrow canal about a fifteen minutes' walk from the café. Giulia and Giacomo led them in a zigzag through the labyrinth of alleys and bridges until they finally arrived at a plain white, four-story building that seemed to have no entrance, at least not facing the alley. John and the girls noticed, however, that the palazzo had its own jetty right by the canal. It was marked, as was common in Venice, by vertical wooden masts decorated with winding red and yellow stripes. In front of it a motorboat of the type Riva Tritone was moored, covered with a tarpaulin. A small staircase led from the jetty to the entrance, over which a lantern hung. Above it, on the second, third and fourth floors, were ornamented balconies. The entire waterfront façade was richly covered with ornaments and decorations, revealing this was not a normal residential house. On the side towards the alley, however, the palazzo was smooth and discreet, a plain white wall with windows in it.

They crossed the arched bridge that spanned the Riello de Santa Sofia, which was about eight meters wide, and Giacomo led them past the building to an iron lattice gate that had been set into a wall. Above the roughly three meter tall wall, they saw the green of tree tops.

"Such an open space is rare in Venice," John remarked. "Is that a garden?"

"Yes, it's the garden that belongs to the palazzo, "Giulia confirmed.

"I haven't seen any gardens here yet," Lauren said.

"There aren't many private gardens in Venice," Giacomo explained. "They're difficult and expensive to maintain, especially with the flooding happening almost every year now. The Palazzo Bellini is one of the few that has one because its foundation is about one meter higher off the ground than most other buildings."

"I read that they started raising houses higher to counteract the flooding," Jason remarked.

"Yes, not necessary in my case, though. As I already said, the Palazzo Bellini was built about a meter higher off the ground, since it's using the foundation of a building that used to be there before but had collapsed in an earthquake. However, I had to brick up the entrance from the alley. Water kept getting in through there. Since then, the palazzo can only be entered from the jetty and through the garden."

Although the iron gate looked ancient, the lock looked very modern, and Giacomo disabled an alarm system before unlocking it.

"You can't be safe in your own four walls these days," he remarked, looking around at the neighboring houses. "I let my niece convince me a few months ago to install a modern security system, even if it cost me a fortune. I would have preferred to invest the money in the palazzo itself."

"The façade actually looks quite good compared to other façades we've seen," Savannah stated.

"Yeah, well…" the old man replied, "I'm not broke yet. But it's just a matter of time if a miracle doesn't happen. Or if I turn my home into a hotel, like my neighbor did."

"And will you?" Lauren asked.

"Not if I can help it. I'll probably manage for a few more years - but at some point I won't have a choice. Masina obviously doesn't want to wait that long."

"I always thought Venice was a rich city," Morris stated. "But from what I've seen so far, it doesn't look very rich."

"Those times are long gone. Venice's prosperity and influence began to fade after America was discovered. Since then, '_La Serenissima'_ moved from the center of the known world to the periphery. Today, there's nothing left of its former glory and power. We have degenerated into a theme park for tourists."

"Many of Venice's inhabitants were forced to move to the mainland," Giulia explained. "Rents are hardly affordable anymore and the homeowners prefer to rent their flats to solvent tourists rather than less wealthy locals. A lot of Venetians live in Mestre or Carpenedo now and commute in and out of here every day – which in return also has an effect on the local economy. Off the beaten tourist track, more and more shops are closing when the locals move away."

"I have to walk for twenty minutes to get some fresh meat from a butcher shop," Giacomo complained and pushed the iron gate open, "it's all slowly going downhill."

"I don't think they mention that in the travel brochures," Jody said.

Giacomo huffed.

"Most visitors are day tourists. They come on their huge cruise ships, storm Piazza San Marco, let themselves being photographed with the pigeons, gawk at the world-famous landmarks, make selfies in front of them, and disappear again before nightfall. Only a few stay longer than a couple of days."

"I have to admit," John said, "we're only staying for three days as well… and we planned to spend the nights on our yacht. But now that we're involved in your matters, we can't go back there. We might be watched, and we don't want to get my mom and the others involved in this as well. It would be too dangerous."

"Don't worry, I have enough room for you," Giacomo announced. "But you might have to put clean sheets on some of the beds, I wasn't expecting visitors."

"We'll manage," Savannah assured.

The group entered the garden via a small set of stone stairs. It was a rare spot of green in the otherwise densely built-up city, where houses lined up one after another. In the middle of the garden there was a fountain with sculptures and ornaments. Wrought-iron benches stood around it. There was a dense tree cover, thick bushes, an herb bed, several flower beds and a small greenhouse.

"I started growing my own vegetables," Giacomo explained, "since the nearest farmers market closed a year ago… not enough customers anymore. We're far from the main tourist areas."

"I know," John replied. "We wanted to get off the beaten tracks."

"And look what it has gotten you into."

"We're not the ones who have to be worried," Emily stated coolly, "it's Eros and his cronies who have to be."

"You can't take on the whole Mala del Brenta and Jonas Masina," Giulia replied.

"We can take on those who are involved," Cameron said, "and we can make sure they'll never bother you again."

"But I don't want anyone to be killed because of me!" Giacomo stated forcefully.

"We're trying our best," John replied, "but I can't promise you anything. It's not only you who we need to protect but also my team and last but not least our identities."

"You still haven't told us what exactly you did there at the café," Giulia said. "I mean, yeah, you gave us a brief summary of your world trip while we walked here. But you haven't explained much, only that you had to… what did you call it… _'treat the café owner and the waiter with chemical magic'_?"

"They had to forget what they saw," John justified their actions, "in case they are questioned."

"The alternative would have been to kill them," Alison said, "would you have preferred that?"

Giulia and Giacomo looked at her, not sure if she was joking or not. Then the young journalist turned to John.

"I'm still too overwhelmed to think clearly, if I'm honest. But… when all this is over, will you treat me and my uncle with _'chemical magic'_ as well? Is that why you're telling us all these things, because you can make us forget afterwards?"

"That depends on the outcome," Alison replied, "and on if you're trustworthy or not. So far, you seem to be."

"Thanks, I guess."

They entered the palazzo and stood in a large reception hall that doubled as the stairwell. It rose up until the fourth floor. On the very top of the building was a braced glass dome that let the daylight in. A flight of white marble stairs swung up counterclockwise from the right side, connecting the stories with each other. The walls were wood-paneled, and the floor was made of red marble. Pictures hung on all four sides of the entrance hall and busts - probably of Giacomo's ancestors - stood on pedestals. But all this faded against the big statue in the middle of the hall. It stood on a pedestal that measured about one by two meters on the ground and rose up about five meters in height, showing a bearded, elderly man in festive clothes.

"Is that…?" John asked.

"Yes, that's Ludovico," Giacomo confirmed with an ironic undertone, "modest, isn't it? He probably felt he wasn't appreciated enough, so he had himself immortalized in this monstrous statue - almost like the pharaohs of old."

"It's chiseled from one piece of white marble," Jason observed astonished. "And the pedestal, is that limestone?"

"You have a keen eye," Giacomo stated.

"My father's a stonemason, I know a bit about sculpturing. But it couldn't have been brought through the door and then erected in here, there's not enough room for that. What was the trick? How did he get it in here?"

"Ludovico had the palazzo built around the statue," Giulia answered. "This place was vacant until two hundred and ten years ago. There was a gap after the previous house had burned down, following an earthquake. Ludovico bought the land and built himself a new palazzo around this, uh… monument."

"To be honest," Giacomo added, "I'd have gotten rid of it already if I'd only know how. It can't be moved, at least not without tearing down the building. There's no room for forklifts, pulleys or cranes. This behemoth is slightly taller than Michelangelo's _David _and weighs more than six tons."

"It's not as well-crafted as _David_, though," Jason remarked.

"Yeah, well... Michelangelo has been dead for almost 450 years. So, unfortunately, he wasn't available."

"It must have been extremely expensive, nevertheless."

"Maybe that's where all his money went?" Jody suggested. "Building this palazzo must have been expensive."

"That's what most people think," Giacomo replied. "Over the years, this palazzo and the garden have been searched for at least a dozen times. Also, all walls have been thoroughly checked, there are no secret passages or hidden rooms. Everything is solid masonry."

"I can confirm that," Alison stated. "Also, this pedestal and this statue are solid, there are no cavities. However, I cannot tell what's underneath the floor, only that it's massive stone as well. Its thickness exceeds what my scanners can penetrate."

"Beneath this floor is only the foundation of the palazzo. It's one meter thick."

"So, there's no cellar?" John asked.

"No, only the foundation."

"So, there's stone and then the logs that had been driven into the mud?" Jason asked.

"Not really," Giacomo replied. "There is a widespread misconception that Venice was completely built on wooden piles. But that's wrong. The city wasn't built on a gigantic forest of logs."

"Then why does everyone believe it all rests on logs?" Savannah asked.

"What the visitors of the city get to see," the old man continued, "are houses, buildings and palaces whose facades seem to merge straight with the canals and the water. If the water of the lagoon of Venice wouldn't be so heavily polluted and dirty, one could actually see stilts and wooden stakes that seem to support the buildings. But the impression is deceptive. The whole city of Venice with all its gorgeous buildings, churches, houses and bridges is mainly standing on the sandy, muddy ground of approximately a hundred small islands. These islands, not much more than sandbanks, form the base and therewith, so to speak, the foundation of the city. In between those islands are the many, mostly small canals."

The group was listening with great interest to what Giacomo said and followed him as he went ahead, slowly ascending the stairs to the second floor.

"One day I have to install a stair lift or an elevator in here," he said a little out of breath and stopped. "I'm not getting younger. Anyway, since the Venetian buildings are all so old, it was forgotten how exactly they'd been built. It wasn't until 1996, when the _La Fenice_ theater burnt down to its foundation walls, that archeologists finally had the chance to dismantle the Venice foundation down to its individual parts and be able to take a closer look at Venice from below."

"And what did they find?" Lauren asked.

"In the dense mud of the lagoon, a simple brick wall is all that is needed, which only has to sit about eighty centimeters in the muddy bottom. The typical Venetian building is supported by four parallel walls at right angles to the canal, which serve as foundation. On all floors these separate walls are reinforced by wooden beams. These stiffened walls form the supporting framework of the buildings. This applies to all buildings along the canals as well as the bridge constructions. Only the canal-side facades actually rest on logs.

"And what's the reason for that?" Morris asked.

"To prevent the walls from slipping along the banks. Piles three meters long but only fifteen centimeters thick were driven into the previously drained ground. Oak was preferred; the wooden piles were each rammed into the mud with a distance of half a meter. The spaces in between were then filled with clay and mud to form a solid foundation. This results in a compact block of wood and mud that becomes buoyant in the water. The façades of even the most imposing, heavy buildings of Venice can be sufficiently supported like this. Another Venetian peculiarity is that the facades aren't rigidly connected to the buildings. With deformable anchors, they were clamped to the load-bearing walls. This special construction is so stable that it has survived for many centuries. As the walls are not rigidly connected, even earthquakes in the region cannot damage this construction method. The method is widely used in modern house building nowadays."

"That sounds very sturdy," Emily commented. "An elegant solution. No wonder it lasted for so long."

"Too bad Anne isn't here," John said bemused, "even she could learn something new from Giacomo, I think."

"But what about the water?" Jody asked. "How often must the logs in the ground be replaced?"

"Never. The decisive and important thing is that this part of the construction must always be completely under water. Without contact to the air, wood has a practically unlimited life. Even microorganisms and industrial waste in the water cannot harm the stilts. Investigations and underwater photographs of Venice show that the piles have not become rotten in the course of the many centuries, but on the contrary have become hard as iron. Until today there is no reason to replace them, as long as they always remain under water."

"Yes, it's not a very well-known fact that wood doesn't rot under water," Cameron remarked. "However, your description doesn't fit to this palazzo. Giulia mentioned that it was built on the foundation of a previous building in its place?"

"Sometimes even the carefully constructed houses of Venice collapsed or burned down – which had happened to the house that stood here before. The Palazzo Bellini has, so to speak, two foundations. Normally, all buildings have the same thirty centimeter high base of ashlars made from limestone above the foundation walls. Limestone is extremely waterproof. A thirty centimeter thick layer of it forms a horizontal water barrier which covers exactly the difference between the low tide and the high tide, which at the time didn't exceed thirty centimeters. This horizontal barrier protects the building on top of it from rising water that would otherwise be drawn into the masonry, which is made from normal bricks. But in case of this palazzo, Ludovico decided that thirty centimeters weren't enough, so he put a second foundation on top of the existing one, making it one meter higher than normal."

"It explains why even my scanners cannot penetrate the floor down there," Alison said. "Any idea why he did that?"

"Nope, and I'm afraid we can't ask him anymore. But I'm not complaining, it protected my house and garden from being flooded so far."

They'd finally reached the main salon on the second floor. It was very nobly and elegantly furnished with period furniture and antiquities, just as one would imagine the interior of a Venetian palazzo.

"Martina, my housekeeper, has her day off today but I think I can make us some tea," Giacomo said. "Anyone hungry? I'm sure there's something left to eat in the kitchen. Giulia will surely prepare something for us, won't you, dear?"

She smiled.

"Of course, uncle. And then, I have questions. Lots and lots of questions."

"We're prepared to answer them," John replied.

"Really? So… I'm, uh… going to be the first European journalist you're talking to?"

"Yup."

"Heh… I have to say I'm nervous… and excited. I can barely gather my thoughts, I…"

"The food, Giulia," Giacomo said with a smile.

"Right, the food."

She left for the kitchen while everyone sat down. Only Emily, Alison and Cameron preferred to remain standing, being as vigilant as always.

* * *

They had a quick lunch that consisted of spaghetti aglio e olio and then Giulia, who almost burst from curiosity, finally got to asking her questions, which were answered by the team members as honestly as possible. To Giulia's great disappointment, she wasn't allowed to record the conversation or take notes. When they were finally finished, it was already getting dark outside.

"Wow…" Giulia stated and leaned back into her chair, "on one hand, I'm so happy now, happier than I've ever been. On the other hand, it bothers me that I won't be able to share this knowledge with anyone outside this room."

"We wouldn't have shared all of this with you if Alison hadn't assured us that you're trustworthy," John replied.

"How can she know that?" Giacomo asked. "I mean, she's right, of course, but… you know…"

"I can monitor your body functions and vital signs, including your brain activity," Alison explained. "If you two planned to misuse your knowledge, your brain activity would betray you and I would have given John a sign."

"Wow… Suppose we weren't trustworthy. What would you do then? Just out of curiosity."

"I would have made sure you'll forget everything you learned today."

"Like you did with Aldo and the waiter?" Giacomo asked.

"Yes, like that. Could still do it if it turned out it was a mistake to let you in …"

Giulia and Giacomo looked shocked.

"Now, now," John appeased, "don't get her wrong, this isn't a threat, it'd also be for your own protection. Because we have enemies. And if they'd find out you know all about us, well…"

"What about that American journalist? What was his name? Novak? Was he threatened?"

"Tom Novak. Yes, he was threatened. We had to hide him for a while. There were a few crucial weeks."

"But he's not hiding anymore?"

"No, not since the TV interview. He's become a public figure the whole world knows, he's often invited to talk shows. But he's still in danger, make no mistake, and he knows that. And therefore he's still under our protection, or rather the protection of the C.S.I.S. at the moment. It's a different story with you guys. It'd be hard to guarantee your safety here."

"I see," Giulia replied and looked directly at Alison. "So… from what I gathered, you can somehow manipulate the minds of people?"

Alison looked at John and he looked back at her.

"Oh, come on," Giulia said with a smirk, "it's more than obvious that you can control people at will. You made the waiter talk. Normally nothing can make a member of the Mala del Brenta talk."

John sighed, looked at his wife and nodded.

"Yes," Alison confirmed, "I can manipulate people, bring them under my control or completely change their character and personality."

"Good God," Giacomo exclaimed.

"It's a skill that we all don't feel very comfortable with," John quickly said, "especially since it was created with the clear intention of interrogating people and brainwashing them to turn against their friends and loved ones. Or even worse. In Savannah and Allie's future, Skynet's minions had wreaked incredible havoc on the human resistance with this horrible ability. Fortunately, Alison has no ambition for power. A human should never be given such abilities, but they're safe with her. We have rules, of course. She only uses this ability to maintain our anonymity and protect me and her family."

Giulia frowned.

"Her… _family_?"

John smiled.

"You heard right. We're a family. Kind of a patchwork family that stretches over different timelines and alternate realities but…"

"Well, some of us, like myself, Jason, Lauren, or Morris are not exactly part of it," Jody pointed out. "We got into the club by accident."

"Doesn't matter," Emily replied, "the term _family_ doesn't mean we're blood-related. It stands for the inner circle of our team to which you belong. You're family to us, right, John?"

"Correct. Savannah and Allie also aren't blood-related to me, and yet they're family."

"Fascinating," Giulia stated. "And it doesn't bother anyone that three members of your _family_ aren't human?"

"No, doesn't matter at all," Savannah said. "And it's actually four non-humans. Catherine is currently in Los Angeles."

"Right. Catherine Weaver, you mentioned her. The shapeshifter."

"She's like an aunt to me," John declared.

"At first, I thought you two are twin sisters," Giacomo said and pointed at Allie and Cameron.

"In a way, we are," Cameron replied. "I was created in her image."

"But I let myself being changed slightly by Alison," Allie added. "I'm now a bit taller, with shorter and lighter hair. Also, my eyes are blue and not brown."

"And you clearly have bigger…" Giacomo said, then hesitated, "I mean.. you know."

"Bigger breasts."

"Right."

"I figured, let's go the whole hog," Allie admitted with a shrug. "If you have someone in your family who can alter your body to suit your needs..."

"Almost every woman on our team has benefited from Alison's abilities like that," Jody added. "I, for one, asked Alison to completely transform me. Even my own mother wouldn't recognize me anymore."

"But why?" Giacomo asked. "Were you ugly before?"

"No. It was necessary for me to start all over. My life was messed up, the police and the media were looking for me. I wouldn't have been able to lead a quiet life anymore, so I wanted a clean break. Bye-bye old life, hello new life. My family cast me out anyway."

"That sounds so sad…"

"On the contrary, I now have a new family, one that loves and respects me for a change. I'm having the time of my life."

"Right," Giulia said, "and all this is possible because Alison can not only manipulate minds but also change people physically with her, uh… nanites?"

"Nanobots. Correct."

"To what extent can you physically change someone? I mean… can you turn someone into an ant?"

"Theoretically, yes. But then the rest of the biological mass would have to be converted into something else. A liquid for instance. The most extreme thing I did so far, was turning a woman into a dog. Part of her original body mass was used up to fuel the transformation, reducing her weight to match that of a dog."

"Jesus Christ," Giacomo exclaimed again, "you're serious, aren't you? You're not bullshitting us?"

"No."

"You turned a woman into a dog?"

"Yes, into a German shepherd."

"But why?"

"She was a psychopath," Cameron explained. "She would have killed two children in cold blood, children who'd been kidnapped by accomplices of hers. I believe we actually did her a favor because she obviously preferred animals over humans."

"Her name is Eve," John added. "She couldn't come with us and is currently staying with friends of ours."

"What? You're keeping her as a pet now or what?"

"Yes, she, uh… kinda ran to us. I always had a soft spot for dogs and it's otherwise hard to have a pet with cyborgs around."

"Because animals are afraid of cyborgs," Giulia stated.

"Well, not exactly afraid, it's… more complicated. But Eve isn't affected by that, so..."

"Some of her human intelligence is still intact," Lauren explained, "but not her personality. She's a dog but she still understands some human language. Think Lassie… only for real."

Giulia laughed hysterically.

"It's like you're living in some magical alternate reality," she said. "On any other day I would have thought that you're pulling my leg."

"Why would we torture you?" Alison asked and tilted her head.

"No, what I meant was…" Giulia replied but then saw the grin on Alison's face. "Ah… I get it. You're doing it again. Cyborg humor."

"They've become quite good at it," John confirmed smiling. "Playing with our expectations and prejudices. To be honest, they still fool even me sometimes."

"It's fun fooling you," Cameron said and kissed him, "but not as much fun as fooling Derek."

"And you four are really…" Giacomo began, then hesitated. "I mean, you are… together? As in man and woman together?"

"John's our husband," Alison stated and leaned forward over the backrest of the armchair John was sitting in.

She put her arms around him from behind, causing him to look up and smile. The two kissed. Then Emily also stepped towards John and kissed him as well.

"If I wouldn't see that with my own eyes…" Giulia commented the scene.

"It's hard to believe they're not human, isn't it?" Savannah asked.

"I'm still asking myself if this is some trick," Giulia replied, "I mean, I believe you, make no mistake. And yet… my brain has difficulties accepting it."

"You'll get used to it," Jody assured, "I had a rough start with them as well. But as corny as it may sound: their _'humanity'_ saved me and helped me to get my life under control. If it weren't for John, Cameron and Alison, I'd still be living on the streets."

"What I understand," Giulia said, "is that it's easy to get fooled. But I also understand that despite all this perfectly humane attitude of the three, there's still a machine underneath, originally designed to kill humans."

"Correct," Cameron confirmed, "that part of us will always be there."

"They can switch from caring lovers to callous killers within a second," John added, "all it needs is somebody becoming a threat to me or their loved ones. We have accepted that and learned to live with it. Whoever makes the mistake of threatening or hurting us, will pay the price."

"Like Eros," Emily said. "He will definitely pay the price."

"Have you no trust in the local authorities and judicial systems at all?" Giacomo asked.

"Have you?"

"I, uh…"

"Do you think Masina and his henchmen will be arrested and charged?" John asked. "Or will they get away scot-free again, like before?"

Neither Giacomo nor Giulia replied to that. It was an awkward silence.

"Thought so."

"Then why did you let the waiter go?" Giulia asked. "He's proven guilty as well. He put the poison into our cups."

"He's only a small fish," John replied, "a cog in the machine. Without leadership, he's no threat to anyone. He was forced to do it. We always try to get the people behind the scenes, the ones who give the orders."

"Like Eros," Giacomo stated.

"Yes," John confirmed. "Like Eros."

"You won't be able to simply kill him. He's always surrounded by his men. You'd have to take out half of the Venetian branch of the Mala del Brenta."

"If that's what it takes…"

"That's madness!" Giacomo exclaimed.

"Eros tried to kill you once. Do you think he'd hesitate to try it again?"

Giacomo didn't answer to that because the answer was clear.

"What about Masina?" Giulia asked

"He's a different type of threat. We'll deal with him in a different way, but we'll deal with him. After all, we have to make sure he won't be threatening you anymore as well. This has to end here and now before it escalates even further, don't you agree?"

Giacomo looked down but didn't reply anymore.

"As hard as it is for me to accept it," Giulia said in his place, "but I guess you're right. I still don't like the thought of you running on a killing spree, though."

"We don't do it because we like it," Emily answered. "If killing a murderer results in saving other people's lives, his termination is justified. It is always a rational decision based on calculations and probabilities. I ask you: will killing Eros and his goons save the lives of innocent humans in the future?"

Giacomo and Giulia looked at each other.

"Probably yes," Giacomo then admitted, "but killing someone to prevent them from killing others doesn't seem right nevertheless."

"I agree," John said, "and believe me, killing someone is only a last resort."

"Why don't you just manipulate all their minds?" Giulia asked. "Turn them into nice people. You could do that, couldn't you?"

"I could do that," Alison confirmed, "but it would arouse suspicion. People would wonder what changed their behavior and if we do that too often, somebody might be able to follow our tracks."

"You're aware that removing Eros will only create a power vacuum which will be filled again? Killing him solves nothing."

"It will make your lives safe again," Cameron replied, "and that's what counts at the moment."

"Ask yourself," John said, "what would cause a longer investigation and more public interest? A few killings among gangsters - because that's how we'll make it look like - or gangsters whose personality has changed from one day to the other? And ask yourself what would be more devastating for the public? To know that cyborgs can kill in cold blood… or to know that a cyborg can control minds - not only of single persons but of whole groups of people, even a full arena?"

"We work with the government," Cameron added. "Many people distrust their government, especially in America. They must never find out what Alison is capable off. Therefore we must minimize the risk by using her mind control powers as little as possible. Just think about it: what if the public found out that cyborgs - who are working for the government - can control minds?""

"My God, that would be… the consequences would be incalculable."

"Yes," John stated. "Someone doesn't share your opinion? Clearly he's being mind-controlled. People would be at each other's throats. It would create chaos, mass hysteria, wide-spread panic and a general mistrust in authorities. It could even lead to uprisings and civil war."

"It may sound brutal," Savannah added, "but killing a few proven guilty thugs who aren't more than despicable criminals, will always be accepted in the end, we've seen that in the past. But brainwashing people, changing their personalities, invading their minds? That's a whole different league."

"Besides," Alison added, "you sometimes simply have to send a message."

"Correct," John agreed. "We've had some dealings with the mafia and with street gangs in Los Angeles. Criminal organizations all have in common that threats or warnings won't impress them. You simply don't get through to them because they basically consider themselves untouchable. If you want to reach them and tell them a lesson, you have to hurt them at their core. And that isn't done when you turn their leaders into do-gooders."

"You're justifying murder in just so many words," Giulia pointed out. "Nobody has the right to kill another person, even if it's a bad person. That's what we have prisons for."

"Locking dangerous criminals away only works if you lock them away forever," John replied. "How big are the chances Eros would be locked away forever?"

Giulia sighed.

"Zero," she admitted. "And when he'd be released, he'd want revenge."

"See?" Cameron asked. "It's all about protecting innocent lives. From a theoretical moral standpoint you're right, of course. Killing is bad and no human deserves to die before their time. But you have to think ahead, consider the whole picture and look at it realistically: being strictly moral all the time is a nice idea – only there are so many variables in the equation that it never works out in the end."

"Gandhi was successful with it," Giacomo argued.

"Was he?" Savannah asked. "In the end, he was killed by someone who didn't agree with him, and his country was split into India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. India and Pakistan today are two hostile nuclear powers lurking at each other. History tells us that everything comes at a price and nothing ever works out the way it was intended."

"I hate it, but I have to agree," Giulia admitted grudgingly.

"Still, I'm glad I'm not living in your world, son," Giacomo stated and got up from his chair to switch on the lights, since it had become rather dark in the room. "How can you still sleep?"

"It was tough for a while, I had nightmares," John answered and looked at his three wives with a smile, "But then it got better. In the long run, all that matters, is love and friendship."

"Amen to that," Giacomo said and pressed the switch to light up the big chandelier on the high ceiling of the salon. "At least that we can agree on."

He returned to sit down into his chair, when suddenly there was the sound of shattering glass. Everyone turned around to look at the window, then some more shattering glass. Giacomo sank to the ground and Giulia collapsed in her armchair.

"SHOOTER!" Alison shouted.

With great presence of mind, all members of the Connor team threw themselves to the ground. Giulia and Giacomo, however, were obviously hit and large bloodstains formed on both of their upper bodies. It was clear that both had been hit by more than just one bullet.

"Automatic rifle with a silencer," Cameron analyzed. "Everyone stay down!"

"Got it," John confirmed. "Alison, take care of Giulia and Giacomo!"

"Already at it," she replied, kneeling next to them to feel their life signs. "Both their hearts have already stopped beating. But Giacomo is more critically wounded, so I'll treat first him and then Giulia."

Emily switched the lights off again and looked out of the window.

"Can you get a fix on his position?" John asked, still crouching on the ground.

"From the line of fire I can conclude that shots were fired from a window on the second floor of a building diagonally opposite on the other side of the canal. Distance: fifty-four meters. No heat signatures. Fog has formed and the fine droplets are interfering with my optical sensors. I'd say the shooter either took cover or has already fled."

"Alison, as soon as you're finished with administering the nanobots, hunt down the shooter and bring him here."

"You got it."

"Anyone else wounded?"

Nobody answered.

"Good. Emily, Cam, close all the curtains in the house, we don't want to get any more surprises."

* * *

The shooter had been waiting for almost an hour. Through the closed windows of the palazzo no single target could be made out. Then it slowly got dark and rising fog threatened the assignment. A couple more minutes and nothing would be visible anymore over there. finally the light was switched on. That was the decisive moment. After Giulia and her uncle had been identified, the sniper fired two volleys from the precision rifle that was mounted on a tripod. Afterwards, the weapon was immediately dismantled and bagged in a case. Twenty seconds later and under cover of darkness and the thickening fog, the shooter left the house that was currently empty for renovation and had therefore offered an excellent firing position.

The alleys were all deserted, and the sniper walked at a measured pace, not too fast and not too slow, hiding under a long coat and a hood, carrying the case with the gun. It had been a routine job, nothing special. The Mala del Brenta paid well for such services. Eros should be satisfied, it was clean work. As he had insisted, the American tourists hadn't been hurt. He probably wanted to deal with them personally.

It was an eerie night. The thickening fog brought a damp coldness that penetrated every gap in the clothing. Suddenly the hairs on the back of the shooter's neck stood up. Was there somebody following? Stepping into a house entrance, the sniper listened. But there was only silence and after twenty seconds, the shooter continued his way.

But there was still the feeling of being pursued. Stopping again and turning around revealed nothing but silence and solitude. Venice could be a creepy place at night, especially now, with the dense fog that had begun to cover the lagoon like a blanket. The visibility was rapidly diminishing and the light of the street lamps was being dispersed by the mist. The shooter turned back around and resumed his walk. Then, out of nowhere, a naked woman blocked her way. Before the sniper could react, the woman's hand had grabbed her throat and held it in an iron grip.

"Gotcha," Alison said in a satisfied tone.

As the scent had already told her, the sniper was a young woman and not a man. She could hardly be more than thirty years old. A scar ran across her face, probably the result of a knife attack. The helpless sniper tried to free herself and attempted to hit Alison with her fists and kick her with her feet, but it was of course in vain. Just as the struggling woman pulled out a knife, Alison pressed her carotid artery. Only seconds later, she'd fallen unconscious. Then Alison took her on her shoulder, grabbed the case with the rifle in it and disappeared into the night.

* * *

"Did Alison just jump off the balcony naked?" Lauren asked when her eyes had gotten used to the darkness again, seeing the clothes lying on the floor.

"Yes, she's hunting down the shooter," Cameron replied.

"What about Giacomo and Giulia?" Savannah asked.

As if on cue, there were two gasps and a few coughs, then the aforementioned sat up again and felt their upper bodies.

"What happened?" Giacomo asked confused.

"You were dead," Emily replied and switched the lights on again, now that the heavy curtains on all of the windows had been closed. "But I guess you feel better now."

Giulia and Giacomo looked down on themselves in complete astonishment. His shirt and her blouse were covered in fresh blood. Several bullet holes were visible in them but there were no wounds on their bodies.

"How…?" Giacomo began to ask. "What…?"

"You were hit by five bullets each," Cameron explained. "Precision automatic rifle, probably mounted on a tripod to compensate for the recoil. Very professional."

"What?" Giulia asked. "But… oh my God… we were dead, you say?"

"You were," Lauren confirmed. "Only for a moment, though. Don't worry, no one stays dead for long with Alison around."

"She… she saved our lives? Again?"

"You can thank her when she gets back."

"Where did she go?" Giacomo asked.

"Hunting down the shooter," Savannah replied. "Don't worry, he won't get far, no matter how good he is or how fast he runs."

"She'll bring him in for interrogation," John added. "If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say this carries Eros' handwriting. Only this time, he tried a more direct approach."

"Was anyone of you hurt as well?" Giulia asked.

"No," Allie replied. "Apparently, the shooter waited until your uncle switched on the lights, then quickly targeted and shot you. Those windows are huge. To be honest, it would have been hard to miss you."

"We... we should put on clean clothes, uncle," Giulia said in a remarkably composed tone.

"What?" he asked. "Oh… right. Right… if you excuse us for a moment…"

"Sure, no problem," John replied and pointed at the flatscreen TV in the room, "can I switch it on?"

"Sure, but why? There's only crap on it."

"I wanna watch the news, see if there's anything on it that might be interesting. It's a habit. At home and on the _Rising Star_, we have the news running all day. Also, the new president's inauguration should be happening around now."

"Uh… sure… yeah, help yourself. The remote is on the shelf over there."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Giulia and her uncle returned to the salon, both now wearing clean clothes.

"Look," John said and pointed at the TV. "Seems like Eros didn't take it well that his poison attack didn't go as planned."

The reporter who spoke into the camera reported on two floaters that had been found in one of Venice's canals in the late afternoon. The bodies were identified as Aldo Giordano and Luca Franco.

"Aldo?" Giacomo asked. "The owner of the café?"

"And the waiter," Allie confirmed. "Looks like we spared their lives for nothing. Apparently Eros doesn't tolerate failure – or people who can't remember anything."

"Oh, for God's sake!" Giacomo exclaimed. "All this for a house? All right, first thing in the morning I'll drive to Verona to see Masina and agree to the sale. The whole thing isn't worth it. Not if people have to die for it."

"I think the whole thing has less to do with Masina than with Eros' wounded pride," Giulia said. "I don't think Masina ordered this. He's not a murderer. Eros, however, is."

"Still…" Giacomo insisted, "it's not worth it."

"Maybe we can make you reconsider once you found out what's behind it all," Alison's voice came from the open door to the balcony.

She let the body of the shooter fall to the floor and put the case with the weapon down.

"Whoa!" Giacomo exclaimed and quickly turned away from her. "She's… she's…"

"Naked, yes," John stated. "She needs to be for her camouflage to work."

"Camouflage?" Giulia asked. "Oh, right… you mentioned that earlier."

Alison quickly got dressed again. After that, the attention focused on the person she'd brought with her.

"Is that... a woman?" Jody asked.

"Yes," Alison confirmed and pulled back the hood from the sniper's head. "I was as surprised as you are when I followed her scent."

"Is she alive?" Giacomo asked.

"Of course," Alison replied, "I wouldn't kill her without interrogating her first. I rendered her unconscious and administered a drug that keeps her that way until I wake her up."

"There have been rumors that one of the most dangerous killers of the Mala del Brenta is a woman," Giulia said. "but the rumors also claim that she's a ghost, a phantom. So, most people think it's an urban legend."

"Apparently, it isn't. And she wasn't like a ghost. I had no trouble following her scent and overtake her. John, what do you want me to do with her?"

"She needs to know she's a prisoner," John replied. "She needs to feel helpless, alone and exposed. We should put her alone in a dark room. Maybe that intimidates her. Do you have an empty room in the house, Giacomo?"

"Uh… no. But a house on the other side of the canal is currently under renovation. It's empty."

"That's where she fired from," Alison remarked. "I'll take her over there. It might be a good thing if she doesn't immediately realize who's prisoner she is. Not knowing what's going on causes fear in people."

"Good. Do that."

"But I doubt she'll be cooperative," Alison quickly added. "I checked her vital signs while I followed her. She's extremely cold-blooded. Her pulse was normal, even when I had my hand on her throat. Also, she had three knives hidden within her clothes. I threw them all into the canal."

"We have to at least give it a shot," John said, "Try to scare her, be creepy, unsettle her. When she turns out to be stubborn and remains uncooperative, you can go up a notch. Make her talk but don't do any permanent damage. We might still need her."

"Understood."

"What does that mean?" Giulia asked. "Are you going to torture her?"

"Not if I can avoid it," Alison replied.

"That's not really an answer we can accept," Giacomo stated.

John looked at Alison.

"Can you make her talk without physically or mentally harming her?"

"I can try, John. I have an idea but not sure if it'll work."

"You can do it, I believe in you."

She beamed at him.

"But before you start, we better contact John Henry and see if her fingerprints or DNA find a match in the data banks of the Italian police. Would be nice to know who exactly we're dealing with here."

**-0-**

Slowly, the woman opened her eyes. It was dark, and she was cold. She immediately noticed that she'd been stripped of her clothes, she was naked like a newly born… like that woman she'd suddenly faced in the alley. Who was she? Where had she come from so suddenly? She'd appeared out of nowhere and grabbed her with inhuman strength. And where had she brought her? It was pitch black. Even after several minutes, there was absolutely nothing to make out. The air smelled of paint thinner. A room that was just being painted or renovated, perhaps? She had to assume that she was now that woman's prisoner.

She got up and tried to feel her way around, then noticed that she felt a little dizzy. Probably the fumes. She made a few unsteady steps in the absolute darkness, stretching out her hands. The floor was wooden, that was about the only thing she could sense. Panting heavily, she started using meditative techniques she'd taught herself. Slowly, she calmed down, her heart beating slower. She listened. But there was no sound. The house was absolutely quiet. Was she alone there? The silence was so intense that she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. From somewhere far away outside, she heard a dog barking. How long had she been unconscious? There was no way of telling. It was probably the dead of night by now.

"It's two minutes past midnight. Witching hour."

The woman startled in shock and whirled around. The voice had come out of the darkness behind her without a warning. It didn't sound human, it sounded demonic, deep and distorted. She looked around and saw two red dots shine where the voice had come from.

"That's what you were asking yourself, wasn't it?" the creepy voice continued. "You were wondering what time it would be... Gabriella."

Alison monitored the woman's vital functions. Her pulse had spiked shortly upon mentioning her name and her adrenaline level was high, that much was a given. She also felt cold. But apart from that, she didn't seem to feel any fear. Her body had reacted reflexively when she'd heard Alison's voice, the same voice she had once used in the interrogation of Alison Young - which seemed ages ago, in a darker, crueler time and place – but the woman, Gabriella, didn't seem to be intimidated by it at all.

"Interesting," Alison said in her distorted voice. "You really don't seem to feel any fear. How peculiar."

"Who are you?" Gabriella asked. "And how do you know my name?"

"That wasn't too hard. The police in Naples still has your fingerprints on file. Thanks to the internet, such information is fairly easy to access, it just requires some hacking skills. You're Gabriella Santini, 31, daughter of a stage magician. You slipped into drug addiction as a teenager, killed a dealer who tried to rape you and cut your face with a bread knife during the fight. That's where you got the scar from. You got arrested and went to prison, where you met a mafioso who helped you escape and assume a new identity. You've been working as a hit woman ever since. Unfortunately, they failed in deleting your police records. Amateurs…"

Gabriella made a leap forward and tried to hit the spot where the voice came from with a roundhouse kick. Her foot exploded in pain as it hit something very hard, unyielding, as if she had kicked a steel sculpture. She cried out as the pain shot through her ankle and crawled up her leg.

"Oops," Alison said, "should have warned you. Better not try that again."

Gabriella was limping, she could no longer put weight on her right foot. She quickly realized that she had just more or less ruined her chances to escape.

"I promised John not to harm you," Alison remarked with unconcealed schadenfreude in her voice, "but I suppose harming yourself doesn't count."

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!? If you're from the Vicenza family…"

"I'm not a member of the mafia. But let's not talk about me. Let's talk about you, Gabriella. Unfortunately, nobody bothered to give you psychological counseling as a child, otherwise it would have been noticed earlier that you're a sociopath who's incapable of normal human emotions. I've met someone like you before. Her name was Julia. She didn't end well."

"What do you want from me?"

Suddenly, the room was bathed in light as a spotlight was switched on, one of those that are used to illuminate houses under construction. Gabriella squinted against the sudden brightness, then recognized the woman she had encountered in the alley. Only this time, she wore clothes, and Gabriella was naked. Reversed roles. She suddenly felt exposed but didn't let it show, demonstratively not covering herself.

"I want to know who hired you to kill Giacomo Bellini and Giulia Silvani," Alison said in her normal voice, the red glow gone from her eyes. "We already have a hunch who did it, but we want to know it from you to be sure."

"Fuck you!"

"Tell me, how is it to live without any social contacts? Do you miss being with people who care for you? That must be hard for a human."

Gabriella huffed.

"I don't need anyone."

"Wrong. You need me."

"For what?"

"For determining if we should let you live or not."

Gabriella huffed again.

"So kill me then."

Alison tilted her head.

"You're serious. You really wouldn't mind if I killed you."

Gabriella didn't reply but just stared at her.

"It is strange, this thing called survival instinct," Alison continued, "normally it kicks in in such situations, it always shines through and gets the upper hand. But in your case…"

"I don't wanna die… but I'm not afraid to."

"I know… You lack the ability to experience fear, which includes the fear of death. What do you say we change that, hm?"

Alison stepped forward and grabbed Gabriella's wrist. The woman tried to struggle free, but it felt as if her arm had been locked in a bench vise. Why did this woman have such incredible physical strength? As much as she pulled and used all her body weight, she couldn't achieve anything. Suddenly, she started to feel strange. Gabriella began to tremble all over, and her heartbeat accelerated. She looked Alison in the eyes and they suddenly glowed red again. She gasped, and a previously unknown panic overcame her, which worsened from second to second and awakened in her the desire to run away. But she was trapped in this woman's iron grip.

"Wha… what is… ha.. happening to m.. me?" she asked in a suddenly frightful voice, frantically trying to free herself.

"That, my dear Gabriella, is called being terrified. I've altered your body chemistry slightly so that you can experience real fear for the first time."

"I… I… oh God… please… I…"

Suddenly, the fear was gone again. Gabriella took a deep breath of relief.

"And now I reset you again," Alison stated. "How did you like the experience?"

Gabriella didn't reply, she just breathed very heavily, slowly calming down.

"This is a nice way to interrogate you without actually harming you. I repeat myself: who tasked you with killing Giacomo Bellini and Giulia Silvani?"

"F… fuck you!" Gabriella replied and spat Alison in the face.

Then, without warning, the fear was back again with a vengeance. Gabriella's knees gave way and she emptied her bladder.

"Please…" she stammered, shaking all over.

"Please what?" Alison asked in her distorted voice again.

"AAAAAAAAAAH!" Gabriella screamed, "Please… stop it.! Don't kill me… don't kill me… please… don't kill me… I…"

"Will you talk now?"

The fear was gone again. Gabriella was a mess: naked, shaking, sweating, having wet herself.

"I… I… I can't tell you… I made… an oath."

The woman was clearly a mess, and all that from just inducing fear in her.

"I'm surprised how effective this is," Alison remarked coolly. "Fear is so underrated, if you ask me. I can switch it on and off in you as often as I want. I can crank it up to a level where you might even lose your mind. But we don't want that, do we?"

"I… I… I won't break my… oh God! Oh my God… please!" Gabriella started sobbing as the fear returned, once again having increased a bit. "Pleeeeeeeeease… oh God…."

"You know," Alison said and knelt in front of the wailing woman, "it will be interesting to see how much more I can crank it up until you're finally broken."

**-0-**

"How much longer does she need?" Giacomo asked, nervously pacing up and down in his salon.

"Relax, uncle," Giulia said, "Alison's only gone for an hour."

"If you hadn't insisted on not harming her, she'd be back already," Cameron stated. "But of course that would have meant permanent mental damage to Gabriella."

Suddenly, the naked body of a young woman came flying into the room through the closed curtain of the open balcony door. Alison followed her after a second.

"I think she's ready," she stated. "Aren't you, Gabriella?"

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes, I'm ready… I'm gonna tell you everything."

"She seems terrified," Giulia observed.

"She is," Alison confirmed, "turns out that at some point, fear can't be suppressed anymore. I'm afraid her days as a sociopath are over."

"What did you do to her?" John asked, looking at the naked woman who'd curled up in a fetal position.

"Well, I tested an old saying: _The only thing we need to fear, is fear itself. _Don't worry, I didn't do any permanent damage, I only made her able to have emotions. And once her mind was open, I did something I should have done earlier when interrogating people."

"And what is that?"

"Make them understand."

Everyone looked at Alison in confusion, waiting for her explanation.

"What is it they say? _'The monster never sees a monster in the mirror'_. Evil persons never consider themselves evil. But what if that suddenly changes? I made Gabriella look into the mirror and showed her the monster she has been. To say that it scared her beyond belief would be an understatement. As it turns out, the worst thing you can do to a person seems to be tearing down the wall of mental barriers and defenses they have built around themselves."

"Eew, she stinks," Jody stated. "Did she… wet herself?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid she did. We should clean her up and let her put on some clothes before questioning her. I'm quite sure she'll be talking like a waterfall now."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Gabriella had been cleaned and given new clothes.

"Eros hired me," she said in a more composed tone but was still shaking, "the rest of the Mala del Brenta doesn't know about it. He's doing this on his own. It's known that he's a hotspur who doesn't care much about discipline and orders. His father is one of the bosses, so he gets away with almost everything."

She sounded refreshed yet somehow exhausted. She spoke in a rather low and monotone voice. Clearly, she was beaten and broken and didn't dare looking anyone of them in the eyes, especially not Giulia and Giacomo, who to her surprise were very much alive.

"Kids of rich or influential fathers always get away with everything," Jason commented with disdain in his voice. "It's the same everywhere, whether it's in high school or in the mafia."

"Who else knows about this whole operation?" John asked.

"Only Eros and his closest cronies. Those who hope to make a career in the Mafia by kissing his ass."

"It makes things a little easier," Savannah stated. "Apparently, the number of people we need to take out is manageable."

"What role does Jonas Masina play in all this?" Giacomo asked. "Why is he so interested in getting my house?"

"I don't know," Gabriella replied, "I only know that Eros works for Masina rather often."

"Is Masina with the Mafia?" Giulia asked.

"What? No, he's much too exposed for that. But he likes to make use of Eros and his men from time to time. It's a business agreement for mutual benefit."

"So... Eros does Masina's dirty work, but the Mala del Brenta doesn't know about it?"

Gabriella nodded.

"If they knew, Eros would be in big trouble. The mafia doesn't like split loyalties."

"So, Masina told Eros to kill us?" Giacomo asked.

"No," Gabriella replied. "He only told Eros to observe you and to roughen you up a bit. The idea with the poison and hiring me to kill you was Eros' idea. Masina wasn't informed. He wouldn't have approved of it."

"How many men are we talking about here anyway?" John asked. "How many cronies follow Eros?"

"About twenty."

"And where can we find them?"

"Usually they hang out in Eros' place - an abandoned glass factory on Murano which Eros has turned into a luxury hideout. Lots of space there."

"And they're there day and night?"

"Mostly… except now a couple of men have been tasked with observing this palazzo. Eros wants to know who the Americans are who humiliated him, and then take revenge on them. For that he must first find out where you came from and where you're staying here in Venice."

"He'll never know," John said and looked at Alison.

She nodded and walked out of the room, starting to take off her clothes again. No more words were needed when talking to her husband, they understood each other blindly.

"And remember our agreement," John called after her.

"I will," she simply replied.

"Where's she going now?" Giacomo asked. "What agreement?"

"She's going to clear the path for us," John replied. "Say, that Riva Tritone in front of the palace, is that your boat?"

"What? Uh… yes…" Giacomo replied a little perplexed about the sudden change of topic, "but why?"

"Is it ready to go?"

"Sure. I mean… the tank should be half full and… wait… you're not planning on visiting Eros on Murano, are you?"

"No, I don't… but Alison will. Together with Gabriella." John turned towards Giulia. "You said you're from Milan?"

She nodded.

"How did you get here?"

"My car is parked in one of the multistory car parks at the port of Venice, but…"

"Emily and I need to borrow it," John interrupted her.

"What? For what?"

"For a drive to Verona."

**-0-**

**Tuesday, January 20th, 2009 – 05:32 p.m.**

**Los Angeles**

John Henry walked into Catherine Weaver's office.

"We have him," he announced.

"The hacker? Ron Jeremy?"

"Yes, he took the bait. Until he realized he hit another dead end, I was able to track him."

"And?"

"Verona, Italy. In a building that belongs to a company called Masina S.p.A."

"Jonas Masina?"

"You know him?"

"Only briefly. I met him at a dinner party a few months ago, together with a friend of his who tried to convince me to join some ominous rich people's club. He'd already approached Isaak about it. We both said no. We lack the time to engage in secret societies."

"Why does he want to hack Zeira Corp?"

"I don't know."

"What do you want me to do now?"

"Were you able to infiltrate the computer on the other end without being noticed? Does he know you located him?"

"No, but his PC is a standalone machine. Once the hacker realized it was another dead end, he unplugged his PC from all wall sockets. I didn't have time to look for more computers over the power grid."

"Did he suspect something?"

"I doubt it, he's just being extra careful. I'm sure he'll try again, though. His ego is now awakened. I'll remain watchful."

"Well done, John Henry."

Catherine smiled. John Henry smiled back with his silly smile and left the office.

"Jonas Masina," she said to herself, "what are you up to?"

**-0-**

In Venice, Alison climbed onto the roof of the Palazzo Bellini and scanned the vicinity. Through the thick brick walls, it was hard to make out any bio signs, but fortunately Gabriella had mentioned that Eros' goons were probably hiding in the alleyways around the palazzo. There were four possible routes that led away from it. Since most of the houses in Venice were built directly next to each other or only separated by narrow alleys, it wasn't a problem for her to jump from roof to roof in order to make some shortcuts and prevent the villains from alerting each other.

John wouldn't have had to remind her of their agreement before she left. She was a cyborg, she never forgot anything, especially not a deal she'd made with her husband. That was just John's way, he was a human being, and she loved him not in spite of, but because of his many human quirks. Humans liked to remind someone else of something, even if it was unnecessary. It gave them reassurance. This had been hard for her to understand at first, back in the war against Skynet. But her chip was designed to learn, so she had quickly absorbed the quirks and oddities of human behavior while working for General John Connor.

The agreement was simple: if she couldn't avoid to kill in public places, she was not allowed to leave any traces - no blood, no DNA, no bodies. To accomplish this, she was allowed to be creative. John had come up with this idea after they had time to reflect on their adventures in Germany, Barcelona, and Zermatt. It filled her with pride and joy because it meant that he trusted her to handle such a situation according to her own judgement. She realized how absolute his confidence in her was, so she wouldn't disappoint her beloved husband.

Suddenly, she saw a small heat signature on the opposite site of the canal. Someone stood in the alley called Calle dei Albanesi and lit a cigarette. Naked and in full camouflage mode, Alison quietly made her way to the edge of the roof, scanning the ground in front of her to detect any loose roof tiles that could make a noise when she stepped on them. She was one with the night around her, and as long as her opponents didn't have infrared vision – which they hopefully wouldn't – they'd never know what was happening to them before it was too late. She jumped down and landed on the bridge over the canal. From there, she silently entered the alley.

Her target had taken cover behind a large wooden crate. It was clear that he felt uncomfortable alone in this cool, foggy night. Alison immediately recognized that the man was armed, which clearly identified him as one of the cronies Eros had sent to surveil them. But she had to make sure, so she stood behind him and let her chemical messengers work.

"Are you one of the men Eros sent to watch the Palazzo Bellini?" she asked him in Italian.

The man startled and looked around confused at first, for the voice had come from thin air. Then he suddenly relaxed.

"I… yes," he replied blankly. "Yes, I am."

"What's your name?"

"Toni."

"Okay, Toni. Have you witnessed how Giacomo Bellini and Giulia Silvani got shot?"

"No."

That was good news because he had a clear view to the window on the second floor from his position, and if he hadn't noticed it, then nobody would have. Which meant Eros still didn't know if Gabriella has been successful or not."

"What's your assignment here?"

"To observe the Palazzo Bellini and follow the American tourists when they leave it. Then, when I found out where they're staying, I'm to inform Eros about their location."

"I see. How many more of you are here?"

"We're four, including me."

"Where are the others?"

"Massimo hides in a boat fifty meters away on the side of the canal. Daniele watches the palazzo from the Ramo Albanesi. And Sandra is hiding in the alley next to Bellini's garden to watch the entrance."

"Sandra…? You mean Sandra Gianni, Eros' girlfriend?"

"Yes. She's very good with knives."

"Are Massimo and Daniele armed?"

"Only with pistols."

"I see. Open your mouth."

He did so. She let a thick glob of nanobot gel fall into her mouth. Then she took a step back and watched. After a moment, Toni started sweating heavily. Then he started retching. He threw up, but it wasn't vomit coming out of his mouth but water. Liter after liter. Finally, having turned completely into water, his whole body disintegrated with one big splash and formed a puddle that quickly flowed into the gully. All that remained, were his clothes, his phone, his wristwatch and his gun. Alison picked it all up, bound everything into a neat bundle and threw it down into the canal where it sank to the ground. All that was left of Toni, was a large wet stain on the pavement. By morning it would have dried.

She took out the other two men, Massimo and Daniele, in the same manner, turning their bodies into water, throwing their belongings into the canal. Then she went looking for Sandra in the alley next to Giacomo's garden. It didn't take her long to find a human female hiding in a recess. Still invisible, Alison approached her and let her chemical messengers do their work.

"Are you Sandra Gianni?"

"Yes."

"You're Eros' girlfriend?"

"Yes."

Alison could tell through her clothes that Sandra was a beautiful, dark-haired girl in her early twenties with a perfect figure and an innocent-looking face.

"Tell me, what does Eros fear the most?"

Sandra answered truthfully and Alison tilted her head.

"Interesting, that gives me an idea."

* * *

When Alison re-entered the salon in the Palazzo Bellini, she was fully dressed again, with Sandra following her like a puppy.

"Who's that?" John asked with a frown.

"Sandra Cianni," Giacomo answered in his place, sounding flabbergasted. "Eros' girlfriend."

"I found her watching the garden entrance," Alison explained.

"She looks like a zombie," Giulia observed. "What did you do to her?"

"I brought her body under my control. Her mind is still very much awake in there, only no longer at the helm. She will do everything I say and answer all questions truthfully."

"Why did you do that and why did you bring her here?" John asked.

"Well, firstly, she can give us lots of information. Secondly, she can be very useful when we enter Eros' estate on Murano."

"Good thinking. What about the others? I suppose there were more than her?"

"Three more. They won't bother us anymore. But we need to act quickly before Eros finds out they're missing."

"Can I ask Sandra a question while she's here and under your control?" Giulia said. "I've always been curious about her motivations and this is too good an opportunity to let it pass."

"Sure, go ahead," Alison replied. "She'll answer truthfully."

Giulia smirked and looked Sandra in the eyes.

"What do you find in Eros? You're young and beautiful. the whole world is open to you, you can get any man you want. Why a Mafioso like Eros, why a killer?"

"Eros is cold-blooded but naive when it comes to women. He loves me sincerely and has power and influence."

"Do you also love him?"

"Yes, I think so. Not as much as he loves me, though. But he's also useful to me. He's my chance to gain power and influence after my public humiliation when they took the title of Miss Italia from me. I hope that this way I will eventually come into a position where I can take revenge on those responsible."

"And what do you want to do with them if you get the chance?"

"I will ask Eros to kidnap them, so that I can have a little fun with them with my knife before killing them."

Giulia turned towards John.

"Okay, I heard enough, it is as I suspected. What a rotten bitch."

John smiled.

"All right then," he said and turned towards Alison. "You, Sandra and Gabriella use Giacomo's motorboat to drive to Murano. Infiltrate Eros' compound and take him and his cronies out."

"Understood. Do you have any special instructions?"

"No, do what's necessary."

Alison smiled. There it was again, the proof that John trusted her completely.

"Wait, what does that mean?" Giulia asked. "Is she going to kill them?"

John turned towards her.

"Look, right now, we can still keep this contained. The number of people who know about Eros' little business agreement with Masina is limited. Once the knowledge is spread into the ranks of the Mala del Brenta, it's going to be a lot more difficult. We can stop it all here and now."

"How… um… how about making them compliant? Delete their memories?"

John sighed.

"We already talked about that. This is the mafia. Nobody will wonder about killings. But everyone would become suspicious if these gangsters became benefactors, idiots or walk around like zombies all of a sudden. Besides, the changes in the brain can be detected through a medical checkup. Right, Alison?"

"John is correct," Alison answered, looking at Giulia and Giacomo, "my mind manipulations could be detected. The chemical messengers lead to physical changes in the brain, which can be detected in an MRI, for example. We mustn't use this ability too often and too excessive. I put Sandra under my spell because she'll be instrumental in getting rid of Eros."

"Okay… but what about Masina? Killing him as well would be unwise."

"Oh, definitely," John agreed. "We won't harm him. Our little trip to Verona is only about finding out what he wants with your palazzo. We won't face him, and we'll find other ways to take him out of the picture."

"And I suppose you're not going to tell us about those ways?" Giacomo asked.

"No," John replied, "it's better for you to not know, just in case someone questions you. Emily and I will pay his company headquarters a visit. Let's see what else he's got to hide. Maybe we can collect material that Giulia can use for a story about him. I'm pretty sure he has more than one skeleton in his closet."

"Are you sure about that?" Giulia asked. "His office building is better secured than Fort Knox."

"I could break into Fort Knox at any time without anyone noticing," Emily replied succinctly, "all modern security systems are computer-controlled, and there are no electronics in existence that I cannot manipulate or disable."

"So," Giacomo said and looked at Cameron, "Alison can control minds, Emily can control electronic devices and computers, what is _your_ special talent?"

"I'm playing a mean game of poker," Cameron replied. "Actually, that's not true. I've been banned from the poker table by Derek and Charley… and from the billiard table… and the darts board… and…"

"Now you're pulling my leg," Giacomo stated.

"I am," Cameron confirmed. "About your question, you have to understand that Alison and Emily gained their special _abilities_ through tragic events. Alison had to sacrifice her body for it, and Emily, well… we told you about her forty-three years of suffering. I didn't go through anything like that."

"So.. you aren't envious of the other two?" Giulia asked.

"No, I'm not," Cameron replied, "and I don't feel inadequate if that's your next question. Okay, the two have special talents. So what? Humans also have special talents. Some can paint, some can compose music. Are they envied? Yes. But envy is a very human thing and…"

"… you're not human," Giulia finished the sentence for her. "I got your point."

"You could say," John added and put his arm around Cameron, "that her special talent is being the original, unaltered, unchanged Cameron, the girl I originally fell in love with. And while I love the other two as much as I love her, she'll always have a special place in my heart."

"Aww," Cameron said and kissed him deeply. "Thank you, John."

"The truth is," Alison said, "that Emily and I often envy Cameron for what she is. She is what we used to be before we got changed. John loves us all the same, but the source of this love lies within Cam."

"But aren't you all Cameron?" Giulia asked. "Your chips…"

"… are the same, yes," Emily interrupted her, "but the longer we exist as separate entities, the more we become individual persons. In contrast to Alison, I chose to look this way because too much pain and suffering was connected with my original body. I could return to my original looks at any time if I wanted to, but this is who I am now. And I know I'm being loved and accepted the way I am."

"Fascinating," Giulia commented, "Like everyone else, I had my ideas and assumptions about you - how you are, what you do, what you like and what you don't like. But actually being here with you and discussing these profound things with you... I think I'm just now beginning to understand that while you're machines... you're also alive. I can't tell you how thrilled I am. I'm having goosebumps all over my body."

"Living with them is a privilege," Lauren stated.

"Yes," Morris agreed, "when I first met Cameron, I had a crush on her because she was so weird and dark, and… _different_. Of course I didn't know back then what she was. But when I finally knew, I witnessed how over time she became more and more, well… like us. I'm not having a crush on her anymore, I now have Lauren but… I understand what Alison means when she says that Cameron is the source of their love."

"Wow, that was really deep for you, bro," John stated grinning.

"Hey, just because I keep my mouth shut most of the time, it doesn't mean I've got nothing to say. It's just that I'm being surrounded by so many clever people that it's hard for me to speak up."

"You're doing fine," Lauren assured and kissed him.

"Okay, before this turns into a mass snogging," Savannah said with a mischievous grin, "maybe we should implement John's plan. I suppose Cam and the rest of us should stay here for now?"

"Yes," John confirmed. "Better safe than sorry."

"What shall we do?" Jody asked.

"I dunno… play board games, watch TV… or simply try to get some sleep."

Giacomo yawned.

"That was the cue. I'm so tired I could fall asleep right here and now."

"Good idea, uncle," Giulia agreed. "And who knows? Maybe tomorrow all our problems will be solved."

"That would be nice for a change," Giacomo agreed.

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 21st, 2009 – 00:52 a.m.**

**Verona**

"What do you mean they kicked you out again?" Jonas Masina asked on the phone.

"_I mean that Zeira Corp's protective software is custom-made and more sophisticated than anything I've ever seen. I'm in with one foot now but I need to put a lot more effort into pushing the door completely open, if you catch my drift."_

"And you're calling me in the middle of the night just to tell me that?"

"_I'm sorry, you said you wanted to be informed immediately of any new development."_

"I want to be informed about successes, not about being half way there. I pay you for hacking, not for failing to hack."

"_Yes, Sir. My mistake. I shall continue then."_

"And Stefano?"

"_Yes, Sir?"_

"From now on, only call me when you have good news."

"_Yes, Sir."_

Masina hung up and let himself fall back onto his pillow.

"Who was that?" his wife mumbled half asleep.

"Just a jerk from work. Go back to sleep, honey."

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 21st, 2009 – 01:25 a.m.**

**Venice **

Giulia led John and Emily to her car, which was parked in the "Garage San Marco", one of the multistory car parks that were built at the entrance to the city, and which was open for twenty-four hours every day. It was a long but narrow building with six parking decks. Exiting the elevator on the fifth level, Giulia walked ahead along the rows of parked cars until she stopped at a blue Mini Cooper.

"Cars are considerably smaller here on average than in L.A.," Emily observed while looking around.

"The small car was invented in Italy," John explained. "You wouldn't make it through any of the old towns here in a pickup truck or even a small SUV."

"What now?" Giulia asked.

"Now you hand us the key, and Emily and I drive to Verona," John replied.

"No chance, I'm coming with you."

"Giulia…"

"I'll provide you with my car, but only under the condition that I come along."

"You could have said that earlier," Emily pointed out.

"And give you the chance to trick me and leave me behind? No way."

"You are aware that Emily could simply take the key from you, aren't you?"

"The way I judge you, you wouldn't use force against me."

John sighed.

"All right. But you're going in the back then. Emily will drive and I'll sit in the passenger seat."

"It'll be cramped but if that's the price I have to pay, so be it."

"Very well then."

Emily stretched out her hand.

"Key fob, please."

With a little hesitation, Giulia handed it to her.

"No scratches or dents, okay? The car is brand new."

"I'll try my best," Emily replied with a smirk. "What do you think, John? Does she have Cam's size?"

"Yeah, roughly the same figure."

"What? Why are you asking that?"

"Because before we set off, we need to change clothes," John replied.

"What, here?"

"No, on board our yacht. We can't do this in our street clothes, can we?"

"I haven't thought of that, to be honest…"

"We have camouflage cat suits. We're going to stop at the pier, go aboard and quickly change into them."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Emily had driven the Mini Cooper out of the carpark and towards the pier where the cruise ships had moored. She stopped right next to the _Rising Star_.

"That is what you call a yacht?" Giulia asked impressed.

"It's our home away from home," John replied smiling. "And you have to admit, it looks tiny next to those cruise ships."

"Yeah, but those cruise ships carry thousands of passengers and how many are you? Twenty?"

John didn't answer to that. They left the Mini and walked towards the_ Rising Star_. The gangway had been hauled in for the night. But as always when they were in port, members of the crew patrolled the ship to deny access to unauthorized persons if necessary. John signaled to one of them that they wanted to be let on board. The crewman recognized them and lowered the gangway.

"Try to be as quiet as possible," John whispered as they sneaked towards their suite, "we don't want to wake anyone up, especially not mom. She'd ask questions and we don't have time to explain everything."

They reached the entrance to their suite and went inside. John switched on the light, then walked inside their bedroom. Giulia looked around and whistled.

"Wow, this is what I call fancy. Most people live in smaller apartments than this suite. Who was the owner of this ship again? Some Hollywood mogul?"

"Isaak Sirko," Emily answered, "Record producer, movie producer, owns several record labels and has interests in most major Hollywood studios."

"I think I heard of him… party guy, huh?"

"He's been part of the Hollywood elite, so yes… but nowadays he keeps more distance from all the hustle and bustle. We can't have any gossip, especially since he's married to Catherine."

"Catherine… Weaver? The shapeshifter?"

"Yes."

Giulia shook her head.

"Unbelievable. Well, at least it fits. If one was to marry one of those… machines, it has to be such an eccentric personality."

"Don't forget I'm also a machine and John is not an eccentric personality."

"I didn't.. I mean… because… Catherine's not a… oh, never mind."

John returned from the bedroom and carried three camouflage suits in his arms.

"Wow," Giulia said and felt the cloth, "what are these? They completely swallow the light. And they feel warm."

"Latest high tech from Zeira Corp. Catherine is producing them for the U.S. Army but they shy away from buying them, one costs about two million dollars. Their loss is our gain."

"Two million?"

"Uh-huh."

"And you entrust me with one? I have to warn you, I tend to ruin clothes."

"You won't be able to ruin these," Emily said and began to undress, followed by John. "They can even withstand a nine-millimeter bullet."

"Wait, what are you two doing?"

"Taking off our clothes," John replied, "they work best when put onto the naked skin. The material they're made from, creates warmth through movement."

"You're joking."

"Nope. Hurry up, this isn't the time for shame or embarrassment."

The three got naked and started putting on the cat suits. Giulia blushed a little. Apparently, she wasn't used to getting naked in front of others, even if they didn't look at her.

"What's going on in here? Who is that woman?"

The three turned their faces toward the open entrance door of the suite. There stood Sarah, her fists resting on her hips, a big frown on her face.

"Mom…" John said in surprise and smiled sheepishly, "we, uh… didn't want to wake you up."

"I wasn't sleeping. I heard noises. I repeat, what's going on here? And who are _you_?"

Giulia stared open-mouthed at Sarah.

"Uh… mom?"

"Yes, what!?"

"Um… you're naked."

"Yes, I know that I'm…"

Sarah looked at Giulia and her flabbergasted expression, realizing what John meant. Understanding hit her.

"Oh… um… I… I better put something on then."

"No need, mom, we'll be out of here in no time. This is Giulia, we met her today, I told you about her on the phone. We have, uh... some problems to sort out. I'll explain everything tomorrow, okay?"

The three finished putting on their camouflage suits, grabbed their normal clothes, then walked out of the suite.

"Bye, mom," John said and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek.

"Bye, mom," Emily echoed and did the same, pulling Giulia with her who was still paralyzed from the shock of seen Sarah standing there completely naked.

* * *

No words were spoken during the first twenty minutes of their drive to Verona. Finally, Giulia decided to break the silence.

"What is it with you and nudity? First Alison, then these suits that don't allow anything under it… and then your mother… in her birthday suit, behaving as if it was totally normal?"

"Well, for us, it actually **_is_** totally normal," John replied truthfully. "And these suits don't _have_ to be worn without clothes underneath… it's just much more convenient. As for my mother, um…"

"It's because of Alison," Emily said, helping John out.

"What?"

"When she had just received her new body, she didn't have full control over the nanobots yet. They administered them to everybody, believing them to protect everyone from injuries, making everyone more or less invulnerable. It worked. But there were side-effects."

They explained everything to Giulia. It was an eighty-minute drive to Verona, so they had time to go into detail. John didn't know why he was so open towards the woman but since Alison had assured him she was trustworthy, he saw no problem with it. Besides, it was always good to have friends among journalists. Letting Tom Novak in on everything had turned out to be a stroke of luck. Hence, John figured It could never hurt to have more allies in the media industry. When they'd finished filling her in, Giulia said nothing for a while. Then she suddenly chuckled.

"What?" John asked.

"Oh, nothing… I just find it amusing that all the women in your team are now hardcore nudists. It sounds like the script for some silly fetish movie. There's bound to be some awkward situations."

"Yeah, well... we've been through some of them already," John admitted. "In retrospect, they may seem amusing, but when a group of sexually overexcited women can't control themselves anymore and pounce on you, well... let's just say I don't want that to happen again."

"Understandable."

"Now you know almost everything about us," Emily said. "I hope our trust in your is justified."

"It is. And right now I'm just very grateful to have been included by you."

"When this is over, we'll introduce you to the rest of the family. We're going to stay in Venice for two more days."

"I'm looking forward to getting to know them all."

"We're almost there," Emily announced. "GPS says it's ten more minutes."

"Good," John acknowledged. "I'm curious what Jonas Masina has done to keep unwanted visitors out of his office building."

"We should call John Henry. Maybe he can find out something about the building."

"Good idea," John replied, pulled out his smartphone and dialed John Henry's number. "Hi, John Henry … Yes, I'm fine … The others, too … Glad that you're fine as well … Yes … Listen, we need your help. We're currently arriving in Verona and need some information about an office build… what? … Yes, that's the address … Yes, Jonas Masina, how…? … No way… A hacker attack? … Wow, if that isn't a coincidence … Ron Jeremy, are you serious? … Yes, of course … Yes, we're planning on entering the building … Uh-uh … Okay … I see … Yes, we could do that … Twenty seconds should be enough … That's some really helpful intel, thank you … Let me get back to you in a moment, okay? … Bye!"

"Who's John Henry?" Giulia asked. "That doesn't sound like a real person's name."

"He's a friend who works for Catherine," Emily replied shortly and looked at John. "And he's definitely a real person. What did he say?"

"You won't believe it," John replied with a grin. "But someone from inside Masina's company is trying to hack into Zeira Corp – and he calls himself Ron Jeremy."

**-0-**

Alison, Gabriella and Sandra took Giacomo's motorboat to Murano. The archipelago lies a little further north in the lagoon. In former times, it was mainly known for the art of glassblowing and the associated manufactures. However, nowadays tourism and - to a much lesser extent – fishing are the main sources of income.

"So…" Gabriella began, "you're a cyborg, huh?"

"I am."

"How were you able to catch me so quickly?"

"I followed your scent."

"What, like a dog?"

"Yes."

"Then I never had a chance?"

"Never."

"Maybe it's for the best. Maybe I should even thank you for what you did to me."

"Do not rejoice too soon. There is no way to avoid being punished for your crimes, even if I made you regret them."

Gabriella lowered her gaze.

"I feel like having woken up from a nightmare," she said, "no matter what happens now, I'm grateful for what you did to me."

"Interesting, I'm still amazed how much it changes a person when you open their eyes about themselves. I hadn't expected it to be so drastic."

"Do you believe me that I honestly regret the things I did?"

"I do, your brain activity doesn't lie."

"Will you do the same to Eros?"

"No. We had already discussed this in the team. Eros' fate is sealed."

"I see."

Sandra – who sat next to them – heard and understood every word they were saying but she was a prisoner inside her own body, unable to move or speak, her mind screaming to get out. That was part of her punishment. Part one, so to speak. Part two would come later.

Alison steered the boat towards the western shore of the small island of Sacca Serenella. With her ability to see at night and even scan through the fog, Alison was able to spot a decaying jetty that was part of an industrial wasteland where a glass factory had once stood. Now it was all overgrown and derelict.

"That looks deserted," she stated.

"Don't let the external impression fool you," said Gabriella, "Eros deliberately didn't make the terrain look pretty. Only the area in the middle of the island was converted into a luxury property. He likes it mysterious and doesn't want visitors to be tempted to explore the island. There are hidden sentries everywhere in the ruins. If someone dares to come here anyway, they'll have to deal with Eros' thugs. The locals know this and warn strangers not to enter Sacca Serenella."

"The better for me," Alison commented, "the more he's isolated, the easier it will be for me to take him and his men out. You know the position of all those sentries, right?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Alison cut the engine of the boat when they were fifty meters away from the jetty. She scanned the shore, made sure nobody had noticed them coming, and quickly took off her clothes. Then she jumped into the water and pushed the boat towards the jetty, climbed ashore and helped the other two women out of the boat. Gabriella was carrying her gun case.

"Why do you want me to kill even more people?" she asked. "Now that you've broken and terrified me into understanding how bad a person I was, you surely know that I don't wanna kill anymore, don't you?"

"You will kill one more time tonight," Alison replied coolly. "Since you know all their positions, you will take out all of Eros' men while I take care of him and his bodyguards. You know the terrain and the fog will give you cover."

"But you can be invisible, you can detect their body heat, why do you need me to kill them?"

"I don't _need_ you to kill them… I just want you to do it."

"But why?"

"Because someone has to take the blame. There will be dead bodies. I can't make them all disappear, it would raise questions when so many people disappear without trace, and we don't want this to make more headlines than necessary. The police will investigate the murders. And they will look for a perpetrator. You are already a murderer, so you're the logical choice."

Gabriella looked down.

"I guess I am," she said. "Is this supposed to be my punishment? Going to jail for life?"

"Not if the mafia catches you first."

Gabriella swallowed hard.

"If they know it was me… they'll kill me. And it won't be a pleasant death."

"You better don't get caught then. When this is over, you're free to go. You can run and hide – or at least try to. If you should get caught by the police, I expect you to make a full confession. If the mafia gets you first, well… tough luck then."

"So my options are either to run and hide, or go to prison, or let the Mala del Brenta kill me?"

"There are far worse fates than prison or death, as you will see tonight."

Gabriella gulped. Her hands were shaking, it was clear she was still extremely frightened. As far as she was concerned, Alison was nothing more or less than the angel of death.

"I will do as you ask," she finally stated meekly.

"Good. Sandra will have no problem getting to Eros, I will follow her in my camouflage mode. Meanwhile you will take out his men one by one with your sniper rifle. Afterwards, we'll meet in Eros' house. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. Now go."

Gabriella ran off and disappeared in the undergrowth. Alison watched her leave, then seemed to vanish in thin air as she activated her camouflage.

"Sandra," her voice came from where she was standing, now invisible.

"Yes?" Eros' girlfriend asked.

"Open your mouth."

The girl did so. Alison let a big glob of nanobot gel fall into it and waited until she'd swallowed it.

"Now listen. You will seduce Eros. You will have sex with him. Your body will now emanate pheromones he won't be able to resist."

"I understand," Sandra replied blankly.

"Behave like your normal self when you are with him."

"Okay."

"And when you orgasm..."

Alison explained to her in great detail what would happen when she orgasmed. Inside the prison of her mind, Sandra cried out in desperation and horror.

**-0-**

Emily stopped the Mini Cooper on an empty parking strip diagonally opposite the five-story office building in the old town of Verona. The streets were completely deserted at this time of night. Only a few homeless people were in sight.

"I don't think they'll be a problem," Emily answered John's unspoken question. "They look quite drunk."

"Right, what'll we do? Scouting first, I assume?"

"Yes, I'll take a quick walk around the block, scan the building as much as I can, then return to you."

She pulled the hood over her face, left the car and disappeared into the night.

"Can't we wait outside?" Giulia asked from the backseat. "I think my legs have gone dead. Damn it, why couldn't I have gotten a car where you can take somebody in the back without crippling them?"

"Sorry but we'll stay inside until Emily returns," John replied. "Try shifting your position."

Giulia groaned.

"Easier said than done."

"Hey, it's you who wanted to tag along."

"All right, all right! I hope it won't take too long."

"It won't. Don't forget she's basically a computer. Everything she sees, hears, scans or feels, is being processed a million times faster than our brain could."

"So... her mind works in time-lapse, so to speak?"

"Her computer brain does. For interacting with us humans and, well… the rest of the world, however, her thought processes are actually being slowed down. But she can, uh… release the handbrake, so to speak, and go into full machine mode anytime she sees fit. When she hacks into a computer, for instance."

"'Full machine mode'? That sounds like Star Trek technobabble."

John chuckled.

"Heh, yeah, but it's a catchy term. Emily, Cam and Alison use only a fraction of their computing power in everyday life. _Their_ behavior is being matched to _our_ behavior. For example, sometimes they seem to pause for thought even when they don't need to. It has become second nature to them."

"In other words, they're dumbing themselves down in order to interact with humans?"

"You could say that. I don't know how much of that was already programmed into them by Skynet, but when I met Cam for the first time, she was totally convincing as a teenage girl. Gestures, facial expressions, speech, everything was perfect. My guess is she adapted those already existing routines into her personality after becoming self-aware. But nobody can be sure. Even _they_ don't know exactly how their brains work now."

"Like our consciousness can't be fully explained yet? Questions like: do we have a soul?"

"Yeah, like that. They've grown far beyond being just computers. At some point, the spark of life must have hit Cam. My guess is it had to do with the car explosion and her temporarily damaged chip, and that the process was accelerated when I met Riley. Before that, she could convincingly play a girl, but it was just a role. When Riley showed up, however, Cam obviously got jealous of her. We know that almost all cyborgs sooner or later become self-aware when their chips are switched to read/write and when they're left to their own devices. But it went extremely fast with Cam. Her feelings were already there, only she was unable or unwilling to accept or recognize them. I believe somehow Riley acted as a catalyst and accelerated the process."

"Who's Riley?"

"Ex-girlfriend. Sadly, she died."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Suddenly, the driver's door was opened, and Emily slipped back inside.

"Wow, that was really fast," Giulia remarked.

"Shouldn't be a problem," Emily reported, "Two guards at the front desk, elderly men with tasers. And at the main entrance there is a contactless access card reader. I can hack that one in under three seconds."

"Two old men with tasers? That's not exactly high end security."

"No, but there's electronic stuff everywhere: cameras, motion sensors, laser barriers, you name it. Which means there won't be anyone patrolling the floors. Once we're in, I can hook up to their computer and shut down the security system. Then we'll have a clear path and can move around the whole building."

"How do we get in without being seen and triggering the alarm?" Giulia asked.

"That's what we have John Henry for," John replied and pulled out his cellphone again. "He'll create a short power failure in the grid. The lights will go out, Emily can catch the guards by surprise and take them out before they can raise the alarm. Then she can plug herself into the computer and hack herself into the security system to deactivate it. According to John Henry, all critical systems, like the IT department and security, are being powered by a backup battery until the emergency generator comes on, so they'll remain active during a power loss. Normally the system is foolproof. The two guards only have an alibi function in my eyes. They're probably pensioners with nothing else to do and only there to make potential burglars stay away."

"How do you know there aren't more of them inside the building?"

"The security system makes that unnecessary… and unpractical. More guards would only increase the risk of false alarms. The building protects itself... in theory. All we need, is a little darkness, so that the guards won't be able to give a statement later about who or what attacked them."

"But won't the cameras record everything?" Giulia asked.

John smiled.

"You forget that once Emily is in the system, she can manipulate all the recordings. Whoever designed the security system, couldn't expect a cyborg to infiltrate it and shut everything down."

Giulia looked at Emily.

"You can do that? Enter the building and deactivate the entire security system? Even without knowing its exact design?"

"Piece of cake," she answered and pulled out her USB adapter cable.

**-0-**

Sandra had no problem whatsoever walking past the guards around Eros' estate. In fact, they greeted her respectfully. Alison followed her silently without being seen. As they entered the main living area, Eros lounged on the sofa and watched two of his cronies playing video games on a huge flat screen TV while four more were hanging around, doing nothing. Alison recognized three of them from when they'd beaten up Giacomo. Eros looked up and frowned when he saw Sandra enter the room. He wore a protective face mask over his broken nose. Alison had to smile. Well done, Savannah.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "I didn't tell you to leave your post at the palazzo."

"Bellini and Silvani are dead," Sandra replied and let herself fall onto the sofa. "The Americans escaped headlong. Toni, Massimo and Daniele are on their heels. I saw no reason to stay in that recess between the houses any longer. The fucking fog crawled into my bones."

Eros grinned.

"Bellini and his bitchy reporter niece are dead? That's great news. Masina will be happy. And early in the morning, we'll take on those four Yankee bitches. What do you say, sweetie pie, you feel like doing some knife work on their faces?"

"Always up to that, baby," Sandra replied lasciviously and squatted on Eros' lap. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "But right now, I want something else… something hard between my legs… the waiting in that alley has made me horny."

She kissed him.

"It makes me so hot when you're so mean and evil, Eros. I want you. Now."

Eros swallowed. He felt how his penis hardened under her kisses and how his desire to let himself being seduced by her grew bigger and bigger.

"You'll have to get on top, though," he replied with a grin, "the doctor told me not to move too much."

"You know I love to be on top, baby."

She kissed him again.

"We'll be in my bedroom," Eros announced to his men. "And we don't want to be disturbed, do you hear? Under no circumstances!"

His men just nodded, then concentrated on the video game again. After the two lovebirds had left, Alison closed in on the two gamers and with a quick touch of her hands killed them with electric shocks. While they slumped over, the video game kept running on the screen. It took a moment for the other four men in the room to realize something was wrong, but then they jumped up and ran towards their two dead buddies, only to be hit by massive electric shocks themselves. Then Alison waited.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Gabriella entered the room via the open terrace door.

"Did you get them all?"

Gabriella nodded.

"I guess my training kicked in after all. They're all dead."

"Good," Alison acknowledged and pointed at the six dead cronies. "Put a bullet in each of their heads, so that it looks like they've been shot as well."

The silencer of Gabriella's sniper rifle plopped six times.

"Now come and follow me," Alison commanded.

The two walked towards Eros' bedroom. Through the closed door, they could already hear the noise of two lovers in the middle of sex. Clearly, Sandra was a screamer, and Eros groaned and moaned loudly.

"Do I really have to watch that?" Gabriella asked. "I'm not into men, you know."

"I don't want you to watch them having sex," Alison replied. "I want you to watch what happens when Sandra orgasms."

"Did you program her to kill him?"

"You'll see."

Alison silently opened the door and the two slipped in, hiding behind a wardrobe. Eros was too busy to notice them, also, his view was blocked by Sandra. He was lying on his back on the bed while his girlfriend was on top, facing him.

"Now watch," Alison whispered. "Watch closely."

Reluctantly, Gabriella did as she was told. She saw Sandra moving up and down faster on top of Eros, moaning and screaming in joy.

"Yes… yes… Oh, Eros! You're making me cum!"

"Go on, baby," Eros replied groaning, "show me what a slut you are!"

Then Sandra stiffened, her mouth open in a silent cry, her body trembling. Eros looked at her and grinned, letting his hands roam over her naked body.

"Yeah, baby… just like that. I want you to…"

He hesitated and frowned. Hair was suddenly growing on Sandra's skin, short, dark grey hair.

"What the fuck…?" Eros asked and withdrew his hands.

"E..ros…" Sandra uttered, "I'm s… sooo… sor-ry… I… ungh…"

The hair all over her body grew into a fur and her eyes became completely black. She fell silent and stiffened as all the air seemed to leave her lungs in a drawn-out sigh. In horror, Gabriella watched as Sandra's fingers and toes fused together and her beautiful facial features disappeared under a thick cover of fur while the hair on her head was drawn into her skull. Suddenly, there was movement under her skin, it bulged and rippled as if her flesh was boiling underneath.

"What the fuck?" Eros exclaimed hysterically. "Get off me!"

He tried to shake her off but failed because she stiffly rested on him with her full weight. A faint squeaking sound could be heard. Eros tried to get free but failed in doing so. Cracks started to appear on Sandra's fur-covered body. The movement under her skin suddenly stopped, the faint squeaking grew louder and multiplied. Eros, with his penis still inside her, stared flabbergasted and horrified at what had happened to his girlfriend.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then Sandra fell apart.

Literally.

Her body collapsed into small, furry pieces. Eros screamed in horror as he realized those small, furry pieces were actually rats. Way more than a hundred of them. He screamed and screamed as they began running over his body, squeaking loudly. It was a scene like from some freaky horror movie.

"Holy shit!" Gabriella exclaimed. "What has just happened?"

"Earlier on," Alison explained, "I fed Sandra with my nanobot gel. The nanobots spread throughout her body, ready to go to work, waiting for the trigger – which was her orgasm."

"You transformed her into rats?"

"One-hundred-and-fifty-two rats, to be precise. Her whole body, flesh, bones, skin, organs… and her brain of course - all fifty-six kilograms - have become a pack of rats. Her brain was transformed last to make her experience the transformation for as long as possible."

"Oh my God…"

Eros jumped out of his bed, completely frantic. He grabbed his gun and began firing wildly at the army of rats that was covering his bed and the floor around it. But they avoided being hit by them, their coordinated movement reminded Gabriella of a swarm of fishes.

"I asked Sandra what Eros feared most," Alison continued while the mafioso jumped screaming around the room, the rats following him, not even noticing in his panic that he wasn't alone. "She said he was absolutely terrified of rats. So it was only fitting to transform his girlfriend into a pack of rats while he had sex with her."

"You're… you're not going to kill him?" Gabriella asked, unable to take her eyes off the screaming Eros and the rats who were chasing him around the room.

His gun was now empty, and the rodents were closing in on him. Eros' frantic screams of horror turned up a notch in volume.

"What are they… oh my God… they're biting him!"

"Yes, of course. They're hungry," Alison explained without raising an eyebrow. "The transformation used up a lot of energy. And those aren't normal rats, they still have some of Sandra's consciousness and intelligence in them, although more like a swarm intelligence. The single rat is just a rat, but as a pack they are as intelligent as Sandra was. However, her humanity is gone. Right now, the swarm of rats has only one thought in mind: feeding."

"Oh my God… do you mean they're gonna…"

Eros' screaming grew louder in pitch and more hysteric as more and more rats buried their teeth into his flesh and began climbing up his body. He frantically tried to brush them off, but to no avail. The two women watched it for another few seconds, then Alison grabbed the sniper rifle from Gabriella and shot Eros in the head with it. The screaming stopped instantly as his naked body fell to the floor. Immediately, the rats were all over him, covering him in a blanket of rodents.

"Let's go," Alison stated and walked to the door.

"They're eating his body!" Gabriella exclaimed in horror.

"Yes, isn't that a fitting ending for somebody who was named after the Greek god of love and sex? His body is now being consumed by what used to be his lover, right after they were copulating. Well, not all of his body of course… only as much as the rats can devour."

Alison dropped the sniper rifle, then locked the bedroom door from the outside and left the house. Gabriella stayed close behind her, still shaking all over her body from what she had just witnessed.

"You did that to show me what would happen if I don't do what you're saying, if I don't keep my mouth shut about you and your friends."

"Yes. And I also did it for when his body is found – or rather what remains of it – people will think someone broke into his house, killed all the bodyguards, locked him in his bedroom and released a pack of starved rats, knowing that it's what he feared most. They'll probably be looking for the murderer in the criminal world and then find the weapon with your fingerprints on it."

"His father will vow vengeance."

"Yes, that's why I recommend you disappear. In your own interest."

"And what about Sandra?"

"There is no Sandra anymore, just rats."

"I know but… won't she be missed? She was well-known in Venice – in all of Italy."

"There'll be no trace of her, it'll be a mystery. The rats will populate the island, nobody will ever know what really happened. Or do you think somebody will seriously consider that a young woman has been transformed into a pack of rats?"

"No, that would be ridiculous, but… is there… anything left of her? I mean… her memories?"

"In the rats?"

"Yes."

"Probably. Those rats will behave differently from other rats… certainly very interesting for a biologist. But the truth is, they're just rats now, with rat brains. And a rat brain cannot contain a human personality."

"Did she know what was happening to her beforehand?"

"Yes, of course, I told her before. She knew what would be happening, but she was unable to resist my commands. She experienced it in full consciousness."

"Oh my… did… did she suffer?"

"No, this time I made sure the process was painless."

"This time? You've done that before?"

"Yes, I once turned a woman into a dog. However, I learned from it and made sure Sandra wouldn't feel any physical pain during her transformation. I'm not made to be cruel."

"Is that why you shot Eros when Sandra… I mean when the rats attacked him?"

"Yes, no need to prolong his suffering."

They reached the jetty again and entered the motorboat. Alison started the engine and steered it back towards Venice.

"And you can…" Gabriella began nervously, "I mean… you can transform a human into… anything?"

"Yes, that's part of what this body was originally designed for: causing mutations, transforming bio matter. My database contains the genetic codes of over a hundred thousand different species."

"And if I ever tell anyone what I saw and learned tonight, you will find me and do the same to me?"

"Yes… I will find out what you fear most and then transform you. For Eros, I chose rats because Sandra told me he was afraid of rats. Let's say you are afraid of spiders, then I would turn you into a horde of tarantulas."

Suddenly, Gabriella started retching. She quickly leaned over board and started throwing up. Alison smiled with satisfaction. This night would haunt that woman for the rest of her life, knowing that what had happened to Sandra, could happen to her at any time if she didn't do what she was told. And that knowledge would be her true punishment.

**-0-**

John, Emily and Giulia got out of the car and walked towards the entrance to the office building. Masina's headquarters were located in a house that had been built in typical northern Italian style, and it was located near the world-famous Roman Arena, which was still used for concerts and opera performances. Through the glass of the entrance door they could look into the foyer. The two security guards were sitting behind a counter, obviously watching TV.

"I always thought such behavior was a cliché," Giulia commented. "Aren't they supposed to be a bit more watchful?"

"People get into a rut with too much routine," John replied while pulling out his smartphone, "making them inattentive. They're probably bored to death and rely entirely on their electronic security system."

He dialed John Henry's number.

"We're at the front door … Okay … In three, two, one."

The lights inside the building and on the street went out. Emily waved her hand in front of the contactless card reader a couple of times. Then the door unlocked and the three entered the building. Shocked by the sudden loss of power, the two guards were too perplexed to notice right away that somebody had just walked in. Then they saw a shadowy figure quickly approach them.

"What the…?" one of them began.

He couldn't finish his sentence anymore because Emily had already reached them. Summersaulting over them, she grabbed their tasers in one swift motion and used them against them to render the two men unconscious. Then she took place behind the desk, connecting herself to the PC under the desk behind the counter. Seconds later, the lights came back on again.

"I can't believe you could open that lock just by waving your hand in front of it," Giulia commented and closed the door again. "That looked like magic."

"Not magic, just electromagnetic induction," Emily replied.

"These guards are useless," John commented, "they reacted slower than a traveling dune. I don't think we would have needed a blackout at all."

"You know our mantra," Emily said, "always hope for the best but expect the worst."

"You just made that up, didn't you?"

"Guilty as charged."

John chuckled.

"Giulia, help me tying up these two. Over there is a broom closet, see if there's some duct tape in it."

Giulia checked the room and returned with a roll of duct tape. Together with John, they began wrapping up the guard until they were sure they couldn't move or talk anymore.

"I'm in," Emily announced. "Shutting down the system… now."

John looked up at the security camera and saw the small red LED go out, then a hum in his pocket announced he received an e-mail on his phone.

"Excellent. John Henry has sent the floor plan to my phone. We need to go to the fourth floor."

* * *

On the fifth floor, Stefano was working on his PC when the lights went out.

"What the…?" he asked and looked around.

About twenty seconds later, the lights came back on again.

"Bloody power grid," he mumbled to himself. "Thank God the PC is connected to the emergency network. A crash would have ruined two hours of work."

Like many computer nerds, Stefano was a nocturnal creature. He preferred the quiet darkness of the night over the hustle and bustle of the day. He'd been working on a new approach to hack himself into Zeira Corp for hours. Stefano was the only one working in the building right now, with all the regular staff lying in bed in their homes. Even the two grandpas down in the lobby probably didn't know about his presence, since he hadn't left the building for days thanks to the bunk bed Masina had put into his office. A bathroom with a shower was down the hallway, so was an array of vending machines. As a result, Stefano basically had all the creature comforts a hacker needed.

He looked at the time and decided that what he needed right now, was a black coffee and a bag of potato chips, maybe some candy bars, too. Fortunately, all these conveniences were within reach in the hallway outside his office door, otherwise it would have been impossible at this time of night to go past the security system without setting off the alarm. Stefano got up and walked out into the hallway, heading for the vending machines.

* * *

John, Emily and Giulia entered the fourth floor.

"This way," John said and pointed down a hallway.

A moment later, they stopped in front of a door with another key card access. This one, however, required a card to be pulled through a slot.

"I don't suppose you can simply wave that open as well?" Giulia asked with a smirk.

"No," Emily replied, "but I can do something else."

She produced another adapter, at the end of which there was a dummy key card.

"Right," Giulia commented, "why did I even ask?"

"I made it after our little adventure in Goslar," she explained, inserting it into the slot at the back of her head and pulling it through the card reader. "This way I don't have to crack the casing open. Leaves no traces."

Seconds later, the door opened with a click. She made a gesture to invite the others in. They entered a computer room and Emily was heading straight for the system administrator's workstation. She sat down and connected herself to the computer.

"Anything about Giacomo or the mafia?" John asked after a moment.

"No," she replied, "this system is company-related. No suspicious data or activities. But there's another computer behind an extra firewall. It's in Masina's office."

"Can you get in?"

"Yes, but it would be faster and leave no evidence of hacking into the system if we just entered his office, where I can hook up to it."

"Fifth floor," John said, looking on his phone. "South-Eastern corner of the building. Let's go."

"What makes you think that Masina is keeping any documents or evidence here which tells us something about why he wants the palazzo?" Giulia asked as they were climbing the stairs. "I mean, why not keeping it at home?"

"Because his home is a much more unsafe place," John replied. "Masina is married and has two children, as well as numerous domestic servants. This office building, however, is well secured and no one has access to his office when he's not in. If I were him, I'd keep all sensitive data and files here."

They entered the fifth floor through a swing door and went down the hallway until they ended up in front of an office door with the writing "_Jonas Masina - Presidente del Consiglio di Amministrazione"_ on it. It also was equipped with a key card reader.

"Do your thing," John said, and Emily stepped forward.

"I've been thinking," she replied while pulling the card through, "maybe I should charge you for my services. That would be a good business model, don't you think?_ 'TOK-700 Enterprises'_, how does that sound?"

"It has a ring to it. Would you accept kisses as payment?"

Emily smiled.

"Kisses… and more. I'm very expensive. It'll cost you a lot."

"I'm prepared to pay as much as you charge me."

The two kissed. Giulia rolled her eyes.

"Can't you knock it off? We don't have all night."

Emily pulled away from John and with a click, the door opened.

* * *

Stefano was standing at the coffee vending machine, waiting for the paper cup to be filled, when he suddenly heard a door swing open and close. It sounded like one of the doors to the stairwell. He frowned. Who could that be? He looked up towards the security camera and noticed that the red LED wasn't on. Was the security system offline? And if yes, who had entered the hallway?

The machine stopped filling the cup and Stefano listened into the silence, but there was nothing. Had he just imagined it? Empty buildings could be pretty scary at night and often your imagination played tricks on you. Finally, he shrugged and walked back into the direction of his office when there were voices. He turned around, sneaked back into the other direction and peeked around the corner of the hallway. There, down the hall, hardly visible, were three persons in front of Masina's office, dressed in pitch black clothes. They looked like shadows, ghosts or phantoms and if he hadn't heard their voices, he'd probably thought he was hallucinating. They were talking in English, and from the shapes he concluded it were a man and two women, one of them rather busty and apparently in a tight embrace with the man.

"Can't you knock it off?" the other woman asked, and Stefano noticed she had an Italian accent. "We don't have all night."

The two kissers separated, and Stefano saw that the busty woman had a cable running to the back of her head. It was connected to what looked like a key card. The woman removed it from the card reader and pushed open Masina's office door. Stefano gasped involuntarily.

Immediately, the busty woman turned around. Her eyes, the only thing he could make out on her covered face, started glowing red. And in the next second, she came running towards him. He jumped back in shock, spilling his hot coffee all over himself.

"Ouch! Shit!"

* * *

Emily had heard a gasp from behind and whirled around.

"Someone's here," she said.

Before John or Giulia could react to her statement, she was already running down the hallway, turning around the corner at the end. They heard a stifled cry and a curse. Then Emily returned to them, dragging a wildly struggling, overweight young man behind her who tried to free himself but failed miserably in doing so.

"Who the hell is that?" Giulia asked.

"I don't know," John replied. "Nobody's supposed to be here at this time of night."

Emily grabbed Stefano by his throat and pushed him up the wall right next to Masina's office door, letting her eyes glow in an even brighter red.

"Who are you?" she asked. "I won't ask twice."

"My… my name is Stefano Ingegneri," he croaked, "I work here."

"You're not a security guard. What are you doing here?"

"I'm… I'm a programmer. I… I work for Jonas Masina."

"At this time of night? What are you working on?"

"Please… if I tell you… he'll get very angry… you don't mess with Jonas Masina."

Emily cut off his air.

"You don't mess with me either. I repeat, what are you working on here?"

"Let him down," John said, having a sudden intuition that would explain the presence of the young man.. "He can't talk if you choke him."

Emily did so. Stefano sank to the floor, coughing wildly. John knelt next to him.

"You're a hacker, going under the alias Ron Jeremy, am I right?"

Stefano stared at him with wide open eyes. How could he know? Who were these people? They were dressed in these really black catsuits, all he could see of them, were their eyes. Were they police, or some kind of secret service agents, or something even worse? Why was that woman so strong? She looked like just a normal girl. And those eyes, those red-glowing eyes! He suddenly had a very bad feeling about it all.

"How do you know…?" he started asking.

"Unimportant," John cut him off. "I'm right, am I? Find something to bind him."

Emily looked around, then ran down the hallway until she came to a room full of cleaning tools and utensils. Inside, she found a roll of duct tape and returned to the others.

"Tie him up and gag him," John ordered, "make sure he cannot run away."

Emily complied. Less than a minute later, Stefano was as tightly packed as a Christmas parcel. She flung him over her shoulder and carried him with her into Masina's office where she put him down on a leather sofa. Then she walked straight to Masina's desk and connected herself to his PC.

"I'm in," she announced seconds later.

Stefano watched it with wide-open eyes. Had that woman with the incredible physical strength just hooked herself up to Masina's computer, hacking into it within seconds? Who was she… or rather, _what_ was she? Was she even human? An inkling crept up on him. What if…?

"And?" John asked. "Anything?"

"There's a lot of encrypted e-mail traffic with an organization called '_The 51 Society'_. But without the right key, it'll take me a while to crack it."

"How long is a while?"

"I dunno… five to ten minutes? It's an extremely strong encryption."

"Too much time. Can you copy those e-mails onto a thumb drive?"

"Of course," Emily replied and pulled a small USB stick out of her pocket.

"Anything else on it, something about what we came here for?"

"No, nothing."

"This is disappointing," Giulia stated. "We might leave here without any information."

"Hmmm," John uttered and looked around in the office.

Everything was very modernly furnished and stood in strong contrast to the otherwise very old building. Glass, metal and leather dominated the interior, a little bit like Catherine's office. There were antique vases and artifacts in display cases, and on the walls hung numerous paintings, apparently all originals, no prints.

"Can you scan the room for a safe or hidden compartments?" John asked.

Emily took a look around.

"There," she said and pointed at one of the paintings on the wall.

John took a closer look at it and noticed that it was hung on hinges. He swung it open and found that there was a safe behind it.

"Not very original," he stated. "Then again, Masina surely didn't expect anyone to break into his office in the first place."

Emily had finished copying the files and shut down the PC. Then she walked over to John.

"Can you open it?" he asked.

"This is a very old model. Probably from the 1930s. Our friend Masina obviously has a sense for good old-fashioned craftsmanship. Unfortunately for him, these are very easy to open. I can use my scanners."

She turned the wheel several times in both directions, until a click told them the safe was open. Stefano, still sitting on the ground, once again witnessed abilities that couldn't be explained. His conclusion was therefore clear: that woman couldn't be human. And if she wasn't human, there was only one possible explanation what she could be. After all, she and the man were Americans. His breathing accelerated.

"What's in there?" Giulia asked.

"Documents, it seems," John replied and pulled out a manila folder.

He opened it and put the contents on the desk. Then he whistled.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Emily took a look as well.

"Yes, it is," she replied. "And these drawings are about two-hundred years old."

"That's it," Giulia stated, "that's why Masina wants the…"

John put his hand over her mouth and looked at Stefano.

"Not in front of him," he said, "no names of people or places. Remember, A isn't with us, and E cannot make him forget things."

Giulia nodded.

"Of course, sorry."

John sat down on the sofa next to Stefano and looked hm in the face. The fat young man was heavily sweating, apparently completely terrified. And who wouldn't be? Three hooded figures who's faces you couldn't see, plus one of them obviously being a cyborg.

"What are we going to do with you?" John asked. "If we let you go, you will very likely tell Masina about our visit. You saw us hacking into his computer and opening his safe. On the other hand, you probably have a good idea by now what _she_ is. You hopefully watched the news in the past months."

He pointed at Emily and made a pause for effect while she let her eyes glow red again.

"So, I assume you probably have heard about her and her two sisters from Los Angeles. Rest assured that they can track you down and kill you in even the most remote corner of the world. You cannot hide from them, you cannot strike a deal with them. Your body leaves traces everywhere you go. Traces they can follow like bloodhounds. You might think that Masina is a powerful and menacing person, but he's a choir boy compared to her and her sisters. Do you understand?"

Stefano nodded frantically. John ripped the duct tape from his mouth.

"All right, here's the deal: we let you live. And in exchange for that, you will from now on work for us. You'll be our spy here, a double agent if you want, and you'll do what we tell you."

Stefano nodded again.

"Si, si…" he replied. "I'll be your spy. Please, don't harm me!"

"What exactly is your job here? What is Masina paying you for?"

"He wants me to hack into Zeira Corp. I don't know why, he's paying me a lot of money. In return, I'm not supposed to ask any questions. He expects results, though."

"Then you will give him results. But only results we want him to have."

"Of course, whatever you want."

"You will return to your office and continue your work as if nothing happened. Soon, you'll be contacted by someone who calls himself John Henry. He'll be like your agent handler. You will do everything he tells you to do. Do you understand?"

Stefano nodded hastily.

"John Henry. Agent handler. Got it."

"We will leave this place without leaving a trace. The two guards below will claim they were overwhelmed and tied up. But there'll be no proof whatsoever to support that. The camera footage will show nothing out of the ordinary, there'll be no evidence the security system was offline. So, all you have to do, is being steadfast in stating that you were working in your office, and that you saw and heard nothing. Is that clear?"

"Very clear, extremely clear. You were never here."

"I see we understand each other. If you simply deny having noticed anything, you will be okay. Think you can do that?"

"Yes... yes, I can do that."

"Excellent." John said, padded his shoulder and looked at Emily. "Free him."

She pulled him up from the sofa like a rag doll, then ripped the duct tape from his arms and legs. Once again she noticed how good John was at improvising. Faced with an unexpected situation, he came up with a perfect solution almost instantly. Now they only had to convince John Henry to play the agent handler for Stefano. Meanwhile, John was putting the documents and the manila folder back into the safe and closed it again.

"Go back to your office," John commanded. "Stay there, do what you were doing until you're being contacted."

Stefano nodded and got up, then quickly walked out of Masina's office and down the hallway. When he reached the corner, he turned around but there was nobody there anymore. They were gone.

**-0-**

Alison and Gabriella reached the palazzo again and went ashore. It was now almost 4 o'clock in the morning and the fog had lifted.

"What happens now?" Gabriella asked.

"You leave… and pray that we never meet again."

The woman looked down.

"I see."

Alison frowned.

"You don't seem very happy about it. Don't you want to go and start your new life?"

"My new life will be lonely."

"That's entirely up to you. Nobody said you're forbidden from forming social connections."

"I can't form social connections. My scar is a dead giveaway."

Alison licked her finger and put some of her saliva on Gabriella's scar. Within seconds, it had vanished.

"Not anymore," she said. "Dye your hair, change your hairstyle, get some fake glasses. It sounds simple but it helps a lot. Do you need money?"

"No, I have money. And I know how to disappear, that's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"It's just that… this night totally changed my life. Nothing is the same anymore. I can now feel what I didn't feel before, thanks to you."

"You're welcome, anything else?"

"I… I've never met someone like you before."

"Of course not, I'm a cyborg, we're rare."

"That's not what I meant, I… I never met someone who held so much authority over me. Have you… have you made me submissive to you?"

Alison tilted her head.

"No, I only changed your body chemistry, so that from now on you can have feelings. Strong feelings, to be precise. And I made you understand what you've been, showed you the monster in the mirror. I never brought you under my control, if that's what you mean."

"And still I… feel like I'm under your thrall… I… I know that I couldn't resist doing what you're telling me to do."

"A side-effect then."

"Maybe… or maybe you brought out a whole new facet in me, a... submissive streak."

"I don't need a slave."

"I know… it's just that… never mind. Forget it."

Alison looked at Gabriella for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on in her head. She felt the woman's desire to stay close to her – but that wasn't possible. She wouldn't fit into their family. It was also clear to Alison that Gabriella would suffer strongly once she was on her own. Suddenly, she had an idea.

"Say, how far would you go to leave your old life behind and start a new one?"

"What do you mean?"

"Would you be willing to leave everything and everyone you know?"

"Isn't that what starting a new life means?"

"A friend of mine in Los Angeles is looking for someone who doubles for her, someone who looks exactly like her. She runs a company and wants to have a doppelganger to take her place when she's busy with other things."

"I… I'm not very good at English and… I suppose I don't look like her… and I have no idea how to run a company. Also, I have no passport."

"We both know that all of that can be changed – including your looks."

Gabriella gulped and looked Alison in the eyes.

"You want to transform my body so that it looks like hers?"

"You'd be safe and rich. You'd move into a fancy mansion and live the good life. You'd be at parties, representing the social side of my friend who's… let's say she has difficulties mingling with people."

"But it wouldn't be my life. I'd live somebody else's life by fixed rules I wouldn't be allowed to break. I'd have to be a complete pretender, playing just a role."

"Beats being on the run all the time, chased by the police and the mafia, don't you think? And we'd see each other from time to time."

"I admit it's tempting but… why me? Why not find somebody else for it?"

"Because you're resourceful, intelligent, you can be unscrupulous when you have to be – and although you know fear now, you're capable of overcoming it and become a valuable, reliable asset for us. Also, you'd have a purpose in life for the very first time ever since you were a child. Look at it this way: is there anything in your current life you would miss?"

Gabriella shook her head.

"No."

"So, what do you say?"

"Can I… think about it?"

"Sure. We'll be here today and tomorrow, then we'll leave. Enough time for you to think. I'm sure you know how to find me."

Gabriella nodded and started walking away. Then she turned around once more.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For believing in me."

And then she disappeared into the night. Alison tilted her head. An interesting development, she was eager to know what John would think of her idea. She entered the Palazzo Bellini again and encountered Cameron who stood guard in the foyer next to the big statue of Ludovico Manin.

"Everyone else asleep?"

"Yes," Cameron replied, "how did it go?"

"Smoothly."

"Survivors?"

"None."

"Good girl."

"To be honest, I liked it. Not the killing so much but the feeling to do something good for society by ridding it of that filth. Also, I could test some more of my abilities."

"You have to tell me all about it."

"I will… when John and Emily are back."

"Say," Cameron said in a seductive tone, "since John's not here, everyone's asleep and all enemies dead, how about we two have some fun together while you're still naked?"

Alison grinned.

"I like your thinking, sis."

Cameron grinned back and also began to take off her clothes.

**-0-**

John, Emily and Giulia arrived back in Venice around 6 o'clock in the morning. They changed back into their normal clothes again – which they'd taken with them to Verona –, parked the Mini Cooper and then walked back to the Palazzo Bellini while the city was slowly awakening for another normal day.

"And you're absolutely sure that Masina won't know who it was that broke into his office building?"

John sighed.

"Again, we left no traces," he repeated, having already explained it a couple of times on their way back. "We put everything back the way it was. Emily can memorize stuff extremely well. The security system is back online, and Emily made sure there will neither be a record of the failure, nor any recordings of the cameras we encountered that show nothing else but empty hallways. Nobody will be able to detect the manipulation. The only clue that there has been an intrusion, will be the testimonies of the two security guards. But their statement will contradict the bare facts. They hadn't even regained consciousness when we untied them and left the building. So, nobody will believe them, the police and Masina will probably think that they only dreamed or imagined the whole thing. Especially since Stefano will keep his mouth shut."

"How can you tell that he's reliable? He didn't make a very reliable impression on me."

"He'll know what's good for him… and I have a feeling that he never felt really comfortable working for Masina. Also, we showed him a glimpse of a world that he as a computer nerd will find fascinating. So fascinating in fact, that he won't be willing to let it go again. John Henry and Catherine will make sure of that. They'll manipulate and guide him and also pay him more money, if that becomes necessary. Stefano's survival instinct will surely kick in. Catherine was very thankful for my report when I called her an hour ago. With John Henry's help and the emails we copied to the USB stick, she'll certainly investigate Masina to find out why he tried to hack Zeira Corp. I have a feeling this could become interesting."

"But won't he suspect foul play when he gets to know about my uncle and the palazzo?"

"We'll create a cover story for that. Some necessary repairs to the house or something. Masina might suspect foul play but he won't have any clues or evidence to support that. And let's not forget that if Alison has done her job – which she will have because she's Alison – he won't have Eros' help here in Venice anymore. He lost his local partner in crime and his network with him, and before he'll be able to recover from that, things will have already taken on a momentum of their own. Even Masina won't be able to stop it anymore. On the contrary, he'll probably be busy with other, much more important things around him."

"Yeah, but…"

"Okay, he might have a hunch that he has been tricked somehow," Emily added, "but he won't have any clues to follow up on that hunch."

"I'm just worried about my uncle's safety."

"I understand that," John replied, "but wouldn't you say that he's now safer than yesterday, safer than before we met you?"

Giulia hesitated for a moment.

"Yes," she then admitted, "my uncle is a lot safer now. Thanks to you."

"Everything will sort itself out," John calmed her. "Believe me, soon Masina will have other problems than going after you. Nobody messes with Catherine Weaver and gets away with it. It'll be a painful learning curve for him."

"I guess what bothers me most," Giulia said, "is that I can't write an article about any of this. Or even share my knowledge with anyone. Because if I did, I'd become a target, right?"

"Yes, Giulia… as I already explained yesterday, you'd be in danger then."

"Does that happen to everyone you meet and who learns your secrets?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"You could have also just said _'keep your mouth shut if you wanna live'_."

"That would be a nice variation on our trademark-phrase," Emily commented with a smile.

"What phrase?"

"'_Come with me if you wanna live'._"

Giulia looked puzzled. John chuckled.

"When my dad traveled to 1984 to save my mom's life, he used that phrase on her when they met for the first time. And when my future self programmed the T-800 I named Uncle Bob, he used the same words on her when we freed her from Pescadero. It was his way of telling her that Uncle Bob was on our side. Same happened when Cameron saved my life while Cromartie was after me."

"So… it's a placeholder for _'don't worry, I'm here to rescue you. Don't be afraid, I'm on your side'_?"

Emily shrugged.

"Saves time when you want to save somebody who's being shot at," she said. "We cyborgs prefer clear, concise words that waste no time. And Future John knew that both mom and John would immediately recognize the phrase. It's like a code."

"I still cannot wrap my mind around all that time travel shit," Giulia remarked.

"Welcome to the club," John replied with a grin.

They'd reached the Palazzo Bellini. Upon entering, they were immediately welcomed by Cameron and Alison. Both hugged and kissed John, and he held them close for a moment.

"I missed you," he stated.

"We missed you too," Alison replied and kissed him again, followed by Cameron.

"Get a room," Giulia said with a smirk.

"The others are already up and preparing breakfast," Alison announced. "I made sure that a few hours of sleep would be enough for everyone."

"Sleep would be nice now," Giulia commented drowsily. "I don't know how you're still so fresh, John."

"Let me handle that," Alison said, licked her hand and stepped forward.

She touched Giulia's arm and the woman felt something seep into her skin. Within a few seconds, she suddenly felt rested and refreshed.

"That's awesome, how did you do that?"

"Instant regeneration," Alison replied smiling, "I've used it many times on the team members. Can't afford to be unfocused during missions."

"Only works so many times, though," John added. "At some point the human body insists on getting sleep."

"So… you basically drugged me?" Giulia asked.

"Yes… stims. Only without the nasty side-effects."

"You should fill that in bottles and sell it, you'd be a millionaire in no time… oh, wait… right… I forgot, you already have more money than God."

"We were lucky," John replied a little sheepishly.

After all these months, he still had a problem simply admitting how rich they'd become, despite all of his attempts to justify it as a compensation for the miserable life they'd led up until then.

"So, what did you find out?" Alison asked, noticing his discomfort with the topic.

"Let's get upstairs and gather for breakfast," Giulia suggested. "Suddenly, I'm starving. And then we can exchange what we learned and experienced during the night."

* * *

They'd all gathered around a long table in the dining room of the palazzo. First, Alison told them about dealing with Eros, Sandra and Gabriella.

"I'm sure Eros got what he deserved," Giacomo commented, "but transforming Sandra into rats? Isn't that a bit harsh?"

"Could be a scene from a horror movie," Giulia agreed, "I'm getting shivers only thinking about it."

"It is her punishment," Alison justified her actions. "Sandra was no angel. As I'm sure you know, she assisted Eros in his crimes and helped him get people killed. And technically speaking, she's not dead yet. Maybe in the near future some biologist will find that the rats on the island of Sacca Serenella show a fascinating kind of swarm intelligence."

"I don't know if this really calms me down," Giulia remarked, "I'm not a particular fan of rats. What if they create a new breed, get off the island and spread around the world?"

"Impossible," Alison contradicted. "All 152 rats created from Sandra's body are female. If they mate with other rats – which is more than unlikely – they won't transfer their intelligence to their offspring."

"Are those rats dangerous?" Giulia asked. "You said they attacked Eros…"

"Only because they were starving after the transformation. All rats would behave like that in the same situation."

"But they ignored Gabriella."

"Because I stood next to her. Animals fear cyborgs, remember?"

Lauren shivered.

"You okay?" Morris asked.

"Yeah, it's just… thinking of how horrible it must have been for Sandra. I wonder if those rats were aware that they were eating their former lover."

"Probably not," Alison said. "Telling by what we learned from Eve, they probably have forgotten their former life."

"Probably?" Giulia asked.

"Yes, no one can tell for sure, not even I."

"Can we stop talking about rats?" Jody asked, looking a little disgusted. "What about Gabriella? Where is she?"

Alison told them about the offer she made the former contract killer. There was a moment of silence.

"Can you vouch for her?" John finally asked.

"Yes," Alison replied. "She's changed, she wants to redeem herself. We all know that Catherine talked about finding a double, a decoy who could take her place at Zeira Corp while she's busy with other things. Gabriella is the ideal candidate. Not only is she capable and highly intelligent, she also needs to disappear. Her fingerprints and DNA samples are on the rifle I left on Sacca Serenella. The police won't need long to identify her as the killer. And if the police knows, the Mala del Brenta will as well."

"I trust your judgement, of course," John said. "But we have to talk about it with Catherine first. She has the final word. I mean, chastened and remorseful or not, Gabriella is still a killer. Entrusting her with leading Zeira Corp in Catherine's name, representing her at parties... we have to be sure she's absolutely trustworthy."

"Of course, John. I believe she is. And you should also consider that her past as a killer makes her a perfect candidate. She can defend herself and can handle stress and danger. We only have to teach her the skills of a businesswoman. It would be more difficult the other way round, don't you agree?"

"You have a point."

"Enough beating about the bush," Savannah said, looking at John, "what did you find out in Verona? I can see in your eyes that the mission has accomplished something."

John smiled.

"Well, if everyone's finished with breakfast, we could show you."

"You guys are making it pretty exciting," Giacomo remarked.

"Well, we still don't know what we find or if we find anything at all," Giulia pointed out. "So we don't want to raise your hopes too high."

"Rubbish," Giacomo exclaimed. "Show me already."

John went ahead as they walked downstairs, the others following him. He stopped next to the big statue of Ludovico Manin.

"You said this house has been searched over and over again for two hundred years," he said.

"Yes," Giacomo replied. "All the walls, all the floors, and the garden. There are no hidden rooms or secret passages. They even x-rayed the walls and checked the statue for cavities."

"But no one ever searched under the palazzo, right?"

"Why, no, of course not. It's inaccessible. There's no cellar, only the two foundations I told you about. Together, they are about two meters thick. It's impossible to check under the house because it stands practically on a single block of limestone."

"Thing is," John said, "we found documents in Masina's safe that seem to be architectural drawings and drafts for the palace, especially concerning this statue. Emily says they're about two-hundred years old."

"Impossible," Giacomo stated, "there are no such drawings."

"And yet Masina has them. They show that this marble statue rests on a limestone pedestal that penetrates one meter into the ground - which happens to be the exact thickness of the second foundation Ludovico has placed on top of the previous one".

"But… that would mean there is a hole in the foundation," Giacomo said flabbergasted. "A hole the pedestal currently fills."

"Yes, the pedestal fits into it like a stopper, creating a single solid mass of limestone - so perfectly fitting that everyone thinks the statue rests on top of the foundation and not inside it. It works so well that not even Alison's scanners could detect it. A masterpiece of stonemasonry. And it means that when you lift the statue - pull out the stopper, so to speak - there is a hole where a person can fit in. Now the important question is: why is that hole there?"

Everyone had listened to John spellbound and now alternately looked at the marble floor and the statue.

"The only problem is," John continued, "that the palazzo was built around the statue, as you explained to us. There's no conventional way to lift the statue from its place. At least not without destroying it. You can't drive a crane in here. Pulleys wouldn't work either, because where to mount them? At the top of the stairwell, there's a filigree glass dome that isn't designed to carry loads. There's no room for scaffolding around the statue either because of the curved stairs. The palazzo seems to have been built in such a way that nobody can get to the hollow space underneath the statue without destroying it or a part of the building."

"Which Masina obviously wants to do," Giulia added. "He says he wants to turn the palazzo into a hotel, but the real reason is to get to that cavity underneath the statue."

"Even if you're right," Giacomo said, "what good is this information if we can't access it without destroying Ludovico's statue? I don't want to destroy it. It's a behemoth but it's part of the heritage. And would it even be worth it? Do we know if there's anything in that hole at all?"

"No, we don't," John said, "not without looking."

"See?"

"But there is a rather uncomplicated way of finding out."

"Which way?"

John looked at Emily, Cameron and Alison.

"What do you think?" he asked. "Could you lift that statue out of the foundation?"

Alison stepped forward and touched the stone.

"It weighs roughly six tons," she stated, "and it's hard to get a grip on the smooth limestone the pedestal is made of. There are no handles or recessed grips. All we have is the adhesion between the stone and our hands. But if the three of us try it together, it might work."

"The statue is heavier on this backside," Cameron continued and circled around it, "Emily and I could take that end while Alison grabs the front."

"And once we've lifted it out of the hole, we can put it down on the floor next to it. But we should put something underneath to not scratch the floor tiles."

"Also, the floor tiles might crack under the weight," Alison pointed out. If six tons rest on our six small feet…"

John looked at Giacomo.

"Your decision."

The old man looked at his niece. She nodded. Giacomo sighed and turned back towards John.

"All right then. I admit I want to know now. But please be careful. If that thing topples over, it will crash the whole stairwell."

"If anything goes wrong or if we lose balance…" Emily began.

"… we'll let it fall back into the hole again," Cameron finished.

Giacomo just nodded.

"Go ahead then."

They fetched a rug from one of the rooms and put it on the floor next to the statue. Then everyone took a step back and watched as Alison, Emily and Cameron took their positions.

"On the count of three," Alison announced as she squatted and laid her hands against the pedestal on the front, the other two doing the same at the rear. "One… two… three!"

They applied pressure to their arms and slowly began to straighten up. There was a loud cracking noise as the statue was slowly being lifted out of the pit it had rested in for two hundred years. Centimeter by centimeter the three of them lifted it out of the hole below until the whole sculpture swung freely, resting in their hands. Together they carefully took a few steps to the side and gently put the six-ton work of art down on the carpet.

Everyone breathed again.

"So far, so good," John said and walked towards the hole. "We're gonna need a flashlight and a ladder."

"Ladder's in the garden shed, I'll get the flashlight," Giacomo said and went upstairs.

While Emily walked out into the garden to get the ladder, Alison scanned the cavity.

"It goes down for roughly two-and-a-half meters," she declared, "deeper than we thought. I can see the original foundation and a low passageway leading away from it in northern direction. There's water down there, about five centimeters deep. Rubber boots would be appropriate."

"My uncle has several pairs," Giulia said, "I'll get them. They might not fit everyone, but they'll keep our feet dry."

"It really is like with the pharaohs of old," Allie stated, "I mean look at it, doesn't it look like a tomb?"

Giacomo returned with the flashlight, and Emily brought the ladder, letting it down into the hole. Moments later, Giulia returned with three pairs of rubber boots.

"Do you want to go first?" John asked Giacomo.

"No," the old man replied. "You found the cavity, you go first. I'll follow."

John put on the boots. They were too big for him but would keep his feet dry. Then he carefully climbed down the ladder. When he reached the ground, he waved the flashlight around and noticed that the passageway Alison had mentioned, was about 150 centimeters high. It led underneath the new foundation and John noticed that the limestone blocks had been sealed with what looked like bitumen. Nevertheless, water had found a way in, probably through tiny cracks in the limestone, caused by earthquakes in the past two hundred years.

"Now we know why Ludovico put a second foundation over the old one," John declared loudly. "He turned parts of the original foundation into what looks like a storage room. I'm going there now."

Panning his flashlight, he bent forward and entered the low passageway. Five meters in front of him, it opened into a rectangular room about three by four meters in size. Beyond the room, there had to be the façade of the palazzo and then the canal in front of the it. The flashlight shone on a dozen rusty iron chests standing lined-up in the ankle-deep water. They were all padlocked. John noticed movement behind him and made way for Giacomo who'd also come down. The old man had to bend down as well and walked past John.

"Unbelievable," he murmured, "could it be? Could it really be?"

Now Giulia had also joined them.

"Wow," she said, "back in those days, people still kept their assets at home, in chests like these. There were no bank vaults or safety deposit boxes yet. The first vaults worthy of the name were created about 180 years ago – after Ludovico had died."

"We need a bolt cutter," said Giacomo in barely concealed excitement.

"We have something better," John stated. "CAM, WOULD YOU TAKE YOUR SHOES OFF AND JOIN US DOWN HERE?"

Moments later, Cameron appeared down there as well. John pointed at the padlocks.

"Would you be so kind to open them up?" he asked.

Without replying, she walked passed him through the water and one by one ripped the padlocks off the chests. Giacomo walked to the first one and opened it up. He gasped as John shone his flashlight into it.

"Congratulations, Giacomo," he said with a smile, "looks like you're gonna be able to keep your palazzo after all."

The chest was filled with gold coins. Giacomo laughed in rapture and went to the next chest. It was also filled with gold coins. The next chest was filled with golden cups, chalices and candle holders, the fourth with jewelry and gem stones.

"I think we should notify the authorities," Giulia said, "and also ask experts to estimate the value. This will definitely make the headlines, uncle."

One after the other, everyone came down to gawk at the treasure. Finally, after more than an hour, they gathered in the foyer again.

"How are we going to explain that the statue was lifted up and moved?" Giacomo asked. "I mean… there will be questions."

"We need to put it back into its place," Alison said. "But now that you know the exact location of the chamber, you can break through the floor directly above it. I'm sure you can find a pretext for that."

"Alison is right," John said. "It would be hard to explain how you managed to move the statue. It's better we put it back. You can then hire somebody with a jackhammer to create a whole in the ground five meters behind it. Didn't you mention installing an elevator? Directly above the chamber would be a perfect position for it, and it would require making a hole in the ground. You'd have to fake surprise upon finding the hidden room, though. Think you can do that?"

"I guess I have to."

"The best moment to begin with it would be when we're gone again," Emily declared. "That way it's impossible for anyone to associate the find with our presence. Do you think you can live with leaving the treasure down there for a few more weeks?"

"What's a few more weeks?" Giacomo replied with a smile. "However, I feel like celebrating. How about we invite the rest of your family to my house and have a little party? Martina is an excellent cook and there has to be a reason why I have shelves full of wine and champagne. Oh, that reminds me, Martina will be here in less than thirty minutes. By then the statue must be back in place. Could I trouble you three again for this?"

Cameron, Emily and Alison looked at each other and grinned.

"The ACE team is happy to comply," the three stated in unison, and everyone started laughing.

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 21st, 2009 – 10:13 a.m.**

**Verona**

"So, you were in your office all night and saw nothing?" Masina asked.

Stefano yawned heartily.

"Sorry, boss… I'm just tired… Yeah, if you don't count the repeated trips to the vending machines… I stayed up until five in the morning, then I nearly toppled over in my chair and finally went to bed. "

"I have two guards down there who swear that three people, dressed like ninjas, invaded the building during a brief power failure, overpowered them and tied them up."

Stefano chuckled.

"Ninjas?"

"That's what they said. So, I ask again, have you seen or heard anything?"

"Nothing boss, I swear. There was a power failure, all right, but it only lasted twenty seconds or so. I took the opportunity to take a short break, get me some coffee and some candy bars. The building was dead quiet, there was nobody there, at least not that I can tell. The security cameras were on. Didn't they record anything?"

"They recorded empty rooms and hallways, nothing out of the ordinary."

Masina was lost in thoughts for a moment.

"Is there anything else, boss?"

"Hm? Oh… no, that'll be all, Stefano. Sorry for waking you up and dragging you in here."

Stefano nodded, yawned again and walked to the door.

"Oh, before I forget," he said, turning around once more, "I had a breakthrough last night."

"A breakthrough?"

"Yes, I now have access to Zeira Corp's internal network."

"Excellent, that's good news. But you look like crap. Go back to bed and get some sleep. We can talk later."

"Okay, boss."

Stefano left and closed the door behind him. Jonas Masina was at a loss. Why would those two old fools insist on something that obviously never happened? They were mentally fit and in good health, otherwise he wouldn't have hired them. Had their imagination been playing tricks on them? On the other hand, you couldn't imagine being tasered. And why should they come up with such a story in the first place? There was no reason for it.

If the two were telling the truth, three people had entered the building unrecognized, deactivated the security system and manipulated the recordings of the cameras, leaving no traces whatsoever of any manipulation. That was impossible. And anyway, what could the intruders have been after? There were no valuables here, no money and nothing was stolen, so burglary seemed unlikely.

Following an intuition, Masina jumped up from his desk and went over to the safe in the wall. He checked the outside but found no traces of violence. Masina opened it and looked inside. All the documents were still in their place. Nothing had been changed. He would have noticed if something would have been moved. Following another intuition, he went back to his desk and examined his computer. He lifted it onto the table and wiped off the dust that had collected on it. Then he hesitated... the USB slot on the front wasn't dusty, it was clean. Masina had never used it, it should be dirty, too. Someone had used that slot recently. For what? Downloading? Uploading?

He booted the PC and did a thorough virus scan. Nothing. He then checked all the logs. Again, nothing that would suggest an access after he'd left for home the day before. Finally, he checked his e-mails and the hidden folder he used for communicating with his fellow members of the _51 Society_. That e-mail folder had a hidden function that created a log file with accesses and changes to the inbox, independent from the rest of the software and the operating system. For someone who didn't know what to look for, this log file was impossible to find.

He opened the file and gasped. Three of the e-mails had been accessed during the night, and the whole folder had been copied to a thumb drive. Masina leaned back into his chair. So... there really had been intruders. The question was: who were they and what did they want? One thing was certain, they were no amateurs. They had to be highly specialized professionals with resources that Joe average couldn't have. Some intelligence agency perhaps?

Masina reached for his phone and dialed a number.

"Masina here … We have a problem. Our organization might be compromised."

**-0-**

Back in his office, Stefano sat down at his desk and unlocked his PC. Then he startled: from his center monitor, a man grinned in a silly way at him.

"What the fuck…?"

"Hello Stefano," the man said and waved at him, "my name is John Henry. I'm looking forward to working together with you."

**-0-0-0-**

**_Author's notes:_**

**_\- Rats… I honestly hope I haven't given anyone nightmares ;-)_**

**_\- Like always, I mixed real facts with a little bit of imagination in this chapter. Ludovico Manin was indeed the last doge of Venice. He'd handed the city over to the French without a fight and died a lonely man, shunned by his fellow Venetians. He left no children and his brother continued the family line. Also, my description of how Venetian houses were built, is based on descriptions I found on the internet. The rest, however, is a result of my fantasy and imagination ;-)_**

**_\- Hope you enjoyed this long chapter. I'd be happy if you found the time to also express yourselves in a review :-)_**


	18. Unfinished Business

**_CHAPTER 18: "UNFINISHED BUSINESS"_**

* * *

After the initial euphoria had subsided, Ludovico decided not to have a party in his palazzo after all. The reasons were obvious: firstly, the neighbors would certainly wonder what the sudden celebration was about. They'd talk about it and ask questions. Since nobody should know about the treasure yet, discretion was essential. Secondly, Giacomo simply lacked the supplies for hosting more than twenty people. So they were content with quietly toasting the find with a glass of champagne before they went to the port and boarded the Rising Star, where there was an abundance of everything needed for a celebration. Moreover, nobody would be surprised about a party on board of a luxury yacht.

After taking some pictures and making a quick inventory – eight chests full of gold ducats and four chests full of jewelry and other valuable items – Alison, Cameron and Emily put the statue back into its place. However, Giacomo couldn't resist to grab a handful of coins to, as he said, _"remind him it wasn't just a dream"_. After a short internet research it was determined that with an estimated 50,000 ducats per chest, the contents the eight chests were worth over 160 million Euros according to the current market value - a sum that made Giulia gasp and Giacomo almost faint. Cameron had to support the old man who needed to sit down after hearing that.

Giulia was close to tears. Giacomo had been a widower since his wife had died of cancer nine years ago. Their marriage had remained childless, so Giulia - as his godchild - was the only heiress. Her parents had died in an avalanche accident in the Alps when she was ten years old, and Giacomo and his wife had taken her in after that. It really looked like a perfect happy ending for the two.

* * *

They walked to the port and boarded the _Rising Star_ before lunchtime, which provided the opportunity to finally introduce Giacomo and Giulia to the rest of the team. After explaining things like why Olga looked like Alison (or vice versa) and who Louise was, the events of the previous day and the night before were discussed in detail at the lunch table. The longer the narrative lasted, the more approval John received for his decisions, even from Derek and Sarah.

With the death of Eros and all those who knew of Masina's orders regarding Giacomo Bellini, the old man and his niece were now safe for the time being. Sarah of course had her doubts about Gabriella, especially about her loyalty and reliability, but admitted that she had to meet with her before she could make a final judgement. When Sandra's fate was finally described, everyone grimaced or groaned.

"I hate rats," Louise exclaimed and put down her cutlery, as she suddenly felt no desire to finish eating. "They give me the creeps."

"I met Sandra Cianni a couple of years ago," Olga said, still stuffing food into her mouth.

"You did?" John asked, wondering again how a model as slim as her could eat so much without gaining weight.

"Yes, at a photo shoot on Bali. That was after she lost her title as Miss Italia. She needed money and didn't mind posing naked in front of a camera."

"Why am I not surprised?" Giulia asked.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with getting naked on camera," Louise replied, and Olga smiled warmly at her.

Giulia suddenly blushed.

"Oh, um… sorry, I didn't mean to… uh…"

"Wait a second..." Allie intervened. "Does that mean Sandra could have recognized Alison and might have thought she was Olga?"

Everyone looked at Alison. She shrugged.

"Possible. I didn't ask her, and she wasn't able to talk by herself. Sandra was only a puppet that I controlled."

"I doubt she remembers me," Olga remarked, "she was only preoccupied with herself and didn't bother to socialize with us other models. Nobody liked her. She was a greedy bitch, arrogant, trying to seduce the photographer. Totally unprofessional. If you ask me, being transformed into a pack of rats is a fitting punishment for her. At least now she can learn what humility is."

"But didn't Alison say she lost her humanity during the transformation?" Lauren asked.

"Her humanity, yes," Alison explained, "but I programmed the nanobots in a way that she would maintain enough self-awareness to understand her situation and the nature of her punishment."

"Isn't that a bit risky?" Savannah asked. "What if she seeks revenge?"

"Not possible," Alison pointed out. "The nanobots will prevent her from acting on that. She's no danger to anyone."

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 21st, 2009 – 11:35 p.m.**

**Sacca Serenella - Murano**

Giovanni Maniero watched with barely suppressed rage as the coffin with the body of his son was taken away. Not only was Eros dead, half of his body was eaten by rats, making it impossible to lay out the body. Like his men, he had been killed with a single bullet to the head. Then someone had released the hungry rats in his bedroom and locked the door. When the bodies were found in the morning, the police broke the door down and the rats escaped. Two of the police officers had thrown up when they saw Eros' body - or what was left of it. Giovanni Maniero swore that the person responsible would suffer a similar fate.

Forensics were still working at the crime scene, so he was asked to wait outside for the time being. He was pacing back and forth on the courtyard behind the house, muttering curses. Tears of rage and sadness ran down his face. His eyes fell on a single rat that had lifted its nose and sniffed the air. Giovanni picked up a stone and was about to throw it angrily at the rodent when a cat jumped out of the bushes and caught the animal. Giovanni felt satisfaction about this - at least one less of those pesky little buggers.

But then something completely unexpected happened.

Far more than a hundred rats jumped out of the undergrowth and attacked the cat, which, startled, let go of its prey and tried to flee. But she was overpowered by the pack, disappeared in a dark grey ball of rat bodies and cried out loudly before her meows suddenly fell silent.

"What the hell…?" Giovanni uttered unbelieving.

Since when did rats team up to kill their predators? Stunned, he stared at the bleeding, dead body of the cat after the rats had cleared it. Then he noticed that the rodents gathered in front of him. Suddenly becoming creeped out, he was about to turn around and run away when he noticed that the rats organized themselves into some kind of formation. It took him a moment to realize they were forming letters on the ground with their bodies.

GIOVANNI

"What the fuck?"

They'd "written" his name. How did they know his name, and how could it be that rats wrote, for crying out loud? Was he going insane, was this some kind of hallucination or delusion, caused by the pain from losing his boy? Then the rats changed their formation again. They formed the word PARLA, then CON and finally MASINA with their bodies.

"Talk to Masina? You mean Jonas Masina?"

SI

"What the... wait, did Masina have my son killed?"

NO

KILLER

ALISON

"Who the fuck is Alison?"

PARLA CON

MASINA

TROVA

BELLINI

"Talk to Masina, find Bellini? Which Bellini? There are thousands of Bellinis. Where should I start?"

Giovanni suddenly became very aware of the fact that he was communicating with a pack of rats, probably the same rats that had eaten his son's body. He laughed hysterically. Was he going insane? He warily looked around. If somebody was watching him now, they'd probably send him to a nuthouse. Then again, what if he wasn't imagining it? What if there really were rats that could form words on the ground with their bodies to answer his questions?

"Who are you?" he asked. "How do you know who I am?"

CI

CONOSCEVAMO

"We knew each other? Don't be ridiculous, I never met any rats, I hate your kind! Not least because you ate my dead boy's body!"

NESSUN

RICORDO

"You don't remember? I don't care if you remember, it was a pack of fucking rats that fed on my son and you are fucking rats! I should get a flamethrower and exterminate you!"

MI SPIACE

"I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE SORRY!" Giovanni howled, tears running down his face again.

NON

ERO IN ME

IN QUEL

MOMENTO

Giovanni frowned.

"You weren't yourself at the time? What the... okay, who the fuck are you?"

The rats seemed to hesitate before replying to him, as if they were ashamed to answer. Finally, they formed three more words on the ground.

SIAMO

SANDRA

CIANNI

_We are Sandra Cianni. _

Giovanni stared at the words in shock. That couldn't be, that was insane. They'd found Sandra's clothes in Eros' bedroom but there was no trace of her. The police assumed she managed to flee. But since she hadn't reported in, they believed her dead naked body lay somewhere on the island. How could those rats claim to be her? Unless...

Despite his profession, Giovanni was a deeply religious man, like many mafiosi. Could it be that the spirit of Sandra Cianni had gone into those rats to tell him the name of the killer? He was about to ask them, then suddenly footsteps approached on the gravel from behind. Giovanni turned around. It was one of the police officers.

"Mr. Maniero? We're ready when you are. Would you like to accompany your son's coffin to San Michele?"

"What? Uh… yeah, sure… I'll be there in a moment."

The police officer nodded and left. Giovanni turned back around.

"Are you the...?"

But the rats were gone. And so was the dead cat.

**-0-**

"And you're sure these rats are harmless?" Derek asked aboard the Rising Star and looked at Alison scrutinisingly. "No offense, but your assurances that what you're doing with your nanobots is safe and without side effects weren't exactly reliable in the past. Is it safe to let them roam freely on the island? When you say they have some sort of swarm intelligence now... exactly how intelligent could they be?"

"I programmed the nanobots to make the rats aware of their punishment, that they know they were once human - which was the whole point of it. But I didn't tell them to store her personality or her memories. So, they ought to be just rats but with a certain self-awareness. And I've also programmed the nanobots with a directive that prevents the rats from becoming a danger to other humans. Even if they left the island, they couldn't hurt anyone."

"So... they couldn't consider taking revenge on Giacomo or Giulia?"

"The rats would need to have Sandra's memories for that," Alison pointed out. "But even if they had and felt the desire for revenge, they couldn't act on it."

"What do you expect them to do, Derek?" Savannah asked. "Swim across the lagoon to get revenge for Eros? Be realistic, Sandra Cianni doesn't exist anymore, they're just animals, little rodents, easy to kill. Cats and dogs are their natural predators, not to mention birds of prey. They'll hide in order to survive, they won't venture out. And they'll only live for a few years anyway, right?"

"Rats live to be two to five years old," Alison confirmed. "However, the nanobots inside are still active, and their main purpose is to prolong the rats' life as much as possible. After all, we didn't want the death penalty for Sandra, and to shorten her life that much would be equivalent to that."

"How old can they become?" Sarah asked. "How much will their lives be prolonged?"

Alison shrugged.

"I don't know exactly. At some point, the nanobots' energy will run out and then they die of natural causes. Maybe ten years, maybe twelve... Why is that important?"

"And you're absolutely sure that nothing of Sandra's personality or memories are left?" Derek asked.

"A rat's brain cannot store a human personality or human memories. Think of Eve, she couldn't either."

"Yes, but Eve is just **_one_ **animal with **_one_ **brain," Sarah pointed out. "Sandra has become 152 animals with 152 brains. Rats are intelligent little critters. What if they… I dunno… work together, act as a team? Savannah pointed out that rats have natural enemies. The island is probably full of stray cats. What if the nanobots decided that in order to keep her alive, it would be best to preserve her human intelligence, so that she can take on her enemies?"

"My nanobots weren't programmed for making complex decisions like that."

"Weren't they now?" Anne asked with a sarcastic undertone. "They made such decisions before, remember? They were only supposed to heal me from cancer, but they transformed me into a teenager instead."

"They what?" Giulia asked astonished.

"Anne is actually eighty-four years old," Lauren explained. "Long story, we're gonna fill you in later."

Giulia was about to ask more about it, but then decided not to. Now was not the time. Besides, considering what she had witnessed in the past twenty-four hours, turning an old woman into a teenage girl didn't really seem so outlandish anymore.

"What the nanobots did to you, Anne," Alison explained defensively, "was a free interpretation of their task to heal you, because you used to be a heavy smoker. So, they reset you to an age where you hadn't started smoking yet. That had been unforeseeable."

"So, what if your nanobots made another one of those _'unforeseeable, free interpretations_'?" Derek asked with a smirk. "What if they connected the rat's brains into a rat brain network? Would it then be able to preserve Sandra's personality and memories?"

Alison hesitated for a moment.

"Yes, in theory. They were tasked with turning Sandra's body into smaller parts, but not with retaining her memories and personality. My nanobots wouldn't be able to think in such complex structures."

"At least not until you received Future Alison's upgrade," Allie pointed out.

"Wait, what did you just say?" Savannah intervened before anyone could react to what Allie had said. "You programmed them to split one human body into smaller parts?"

"Yes," Alison confirmed, "into a number of rats equal to her body mass."

"You did _not _tell them to split her body into 152 _individual_ bodies?"

"Well… no, because then the rats would have immediately run away in all directions and be just... rats. I wanted them to stay together as a pack."

"I don't understand," Giulia said. "Where's the difference?"

"It's in the details," Savannah explained. "When you program a learning computer - which the nanobots are - you have to be extra careful with your wording. It could now be that the rats still contain Sandra's consciousness and everything she was. They could act as one large entity now, not like 152 small entities."

"Okay, let's not get carried away now," John argued in defense of Alison. "That's just a theory, an assumption. We don't know that."

"Well, John," Sarah pointed out, "we've had some experience with Alison's nanobots and their tendency to interpret their tasks. Look at Anne, look at the changes we've undergone... Would it really surprise you if Sandra Cianni still existed inside those rats?"

John didn't reply to that but looked at Alison who suddenly seemed to have become insecure.

"Savannah's scenario is theoretically possible," she sheepishly admitted, "but not likely. I'd say there's a five percent chance."

Everyone groaned.

"So... what's the worst that could happen?" Lauren asked. "They're just little animals, aren't they? And they cannot harm humans. There's nothing they can do."

"Let's hope the nanobots don't interpret that freely as well," Derek said grimly.

Nobody spoke for a moment, the mood had suddenly become very uncomfortable. Apparently, lunch was over, and the stewards began to clear the table.

"Enough talking about rats!" Louise stated vigorously. "I have goose bumps all over. Let's talk about nicer things."

"Yes, for instance, what are you gonna do with the treasure?" Jody asked.

"Haven't thought about it yet," Giacomo replied honestly. "Investing some of it into the palazzo, I presume, and of course I'll support Giulia financially, since she's my only living relative. She deserves financial independence for all she had to endure over the years."

Giulia smiled at her uncle.

"Do you have any idea how to turn the treasure into cash?" Jesse asked.

"To be honest, I haven't yet thought about that as well," Giacomo replied. "But the question is quite justified. How does that actually work?"

"I'm sure that Catherine or Isaak will know," Sarah said. "And if they don't, they'll know somebody else who does. I wouldn't worry too much about that right now."

"Yeah, remember you have us now," Lauren remarked. "You're not being left alone with the burden, right?"

"Right," John agreed, "and we'll also make sure that nobody rips you off."

Giacomo smiled thankfully.

"At least nobody can steal from me while the treasure's down there in that hidden room – unless they come with cyborgs."

Everyone chuckled.

"But what if Masina finds out about it?" Giulia asked. "I mean, you'll only be here tomorrow, and then you'll continue your world trip. We'll be alone again."

"I wouldn't worry about Masina," John said, "I have a feeling he's going to have much bigger problems soon. Catherine and John Henry are going to take care of him."

"Also, once the find isn't a secret anymore," Emily added, "nobody will be able to take it from you."

"Emily's right," Cameron added. "the treasure is hidden inside your palazzo, has been for two hundred years. It's buried on your property, a property that has always belonged to your family. You are Ludovico's rightful heir. It's yours and nobody else's."

"The tax office will probably want to have a word," Anne pointed out, "they always do."

"Yeah, well, even half of the value would be more than enough," Giacomo replied. "Maintaining the palazzo might be very expensive, but it won't cost tens of millions."

"I'm sure everything will be fine," John assured them with a smile.

"So, what have you planned for the rest of the day and for tomorrow?" Giulia asked. "More tourist stuff?"

"Thanks but no," Derek answered, "I've had enough queuing for the rest of my life."

They all laughed.

"Also, the gondola ride was totally overrated," Charley added. "Not even an hour and nothing more than just a quick run around the block in narrow canals."

"Told you so," Anne remarked with a smirk.

"What about you two?" John asked and looked at Lauren and Morris, "Do you still want to go on that gondola ride?"

"Nah, it's okay," Morris replied. "We already discussed it last night that we don't really need this - now that we have had a real Venetian adventure here."

"How about _you_ showing us around?" Savannah suggested, looking at Giacomo and Giulia. "I mean, the real Venice, not just the tourist attractions."

Giacomo thought for a moment.

"Hmmm," he then said, "I like the idea. Will you give me free rein?"

"Sure, why not?" Sarah replied. "Surprise us."

Giacomo rubbed his chin.

"There are some places I'd recommend you visiting. How serious are you with getting away from the hustle and bustle?"

"Quite serious," Sarah replied, "we've had enough pushing through crowds yesterday."

"Then I recommend renting a boat and visit Giudecca, Lido, San Michele, Murano and Sant'Erasmo. Might take more than one day, though."

"Uh… isn't Murano where Eros and his gang used to live?" Sydney asked. "Is that wise?"

"It's also where the rats are," Jody declared.

"It makes sense, though," John said. "Alison could visit the rats and see if we're just dealing with a bunch of rats... or if Savannah's theory is true."

"Why do we always come back to talking about rats?" Louise complained. "Can't we just drop it?"

"There are rats everywhere in Venice," Anne pointed out and smiled mischievously. "Only you usually don't see them."

"Haven't you seen _Indiana Jones and the last Crusade_?" Kevin asked with a wink.

Louise showed them the middle finger.

"Ugh", said Giulia, "spare us with that movie. It was so terrible about Venice."

"Was it?" Jason asked with a surprised face. "I thought it was really good. What do you think was so terrible about it?"

"For one, there are no catacombs here. We are at sea level, remember? And petroleum floating on the water? Seriously? The lagoon is polluted, okay, but not _that_ polluted. Plus, they were jumping randomly between places far away from each other, sometimes even in the same scene. Any tourist who's been in Venice for even one day will immediately notice how sloppily these shots were put together. As a born Venetian, it makes me furious when Hollywood twists things up like that."

"Right…" Kevin replied a little sheepishly. "Sorry for mentioning it."

Giacomo cleared his throat.

"Anyway, there's no reason to avoid Murano," he explained. "The island Eros lived on, is cut off from the other islands. I strongly recommend visiting the archipelago for the glass factories and museums alone. It's what Murano is famous for throughout the world."

"'_Murano glass'_ is a known term, yes," Charley said nodding. "What about the other places you mentioned?"

"Sant'Erasmo is the biggest island in the lagoon and the garden, or rather the vegetable farm of Venice. Famous for its artichokes and green asparagus. Quite deserted and quiet. It has a few sights and might be an excellent contrast to the rest of Venice. San Michele, on the other hand, contains Venice's graveyard. It's where Ludovico Manin was buried, also other famous inhabitants who lived and died here, like Igor Stravinsky or Ezra Pound."

"Giudecca is very much like the main islands of Venice," Giulia continued, "only less crowded. And the Lido has some nice beaches towards the Adriatic Sea. They'll probably be empty at this time of year, though."

"Beaches!" Lauren and Jody exclaimed together.

"It's twelve degrees Celsius outside," Anne pointed out.

"So what?" Jody asked. "Where is it written that you can only enjoy beaches in a bikini?"

"There are many other islands, most of them really small ones," Giacomo added, "but visiting them all would take weeks."

"Looks like we have a program for today and tomorrow," Derek said.

"Plus two competent guides," Jesse added. "That is, if you're up for it."

Giacomo and his niece looked at each other.

"I'd normally have to be back in Milan tomorrow," Giulia remarked, "but maybe I can convince my boss to remain here a little longer. It's the least I can do after all you did for us."

"What are we waiting for then?" Allie asked and got up. "Time to move our lazy butts a bit."

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 21st, 2009 – 01:45 p.m.**

**Verona**

Jonas Masina was about to leave his office for his lunch break when suddenly his secretary called over the intercom.

"Yes, Marcella, what is it?"

"_There's a gentleman here who insists on seeing you,"_ the female voice replied. _"He says his name is Giovanni Maniero and he won't be put off."_

Masina frowned. Eros' father? What could he want from him? He probably knew about the business agreement between him and his son but no details. It would be unwise to not receive him, though, as Giovanni was one of the bosses of the Mala del Brenta and could complicate his life quite a bit.

"All right, send him in."

Seconds later, the door to his office opened and Marcella let Giovanni in. He was accompanied by two bodyguards. Masina rose from his chair and walked around the desk, offering him a handshake.

"Giovanni, finally we meet. I've heard so much about you. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Giovanni demonstratively didn't shake his hand. He looked around the office with a grim expression. After a moment, Masina pulled his hand back and suddenly felt like a little schoolboy who'd got told off. He had the sudden urge to go back behind his desk, putting something between himself and the mafia boss who radiated a grim authority.

"I'm here because of my son," Giovanni said. "You know him, I presume?"

"Eros? Yes, I've had some dealings with him. What about him?"

"I'm just coming from his house in Murano where they found his body and the bodies of his men in the morning."

"What!?" Masina exclaimed in shock, his reaction being closely watched by Giovanni. "He… he's dead?"

"They're all dead. Single shot to the head. Looks like an execution by a professional hitman."

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I… I don't know what to say."

Masina let himself fell back into his chair, looking pale all of a sudden. His three visitors remained standing.

"So… you know nothing about that?" Giovanni asked distrustful.

"What? No! I… I even talked to him yesterday, he and I, we… Giovanni, I… My condolences. I will, of course, come to the funeral service to pay my respects."

"You are of course welcome, but I should tell you the coffin will remain closed."

"What? Why?"

"Because half of my son's body was eaten by rats after he died."

Masina gulped.

"What? But… how…?"

"The killer brought more than a hundred starved rats and set them free in the bedroom after my son was shot, then locked the door from outside. Apparently, the animals saw no choice but to feed on his body. I guess someone wanted to send a message."

Masina suddenly felt very sick. He rummaged in his drawer and pulled out a bottle of grappa and two shot glasses. He didn't notice how Giovanni's bodyguards reached inside their jackets to lay their hands on their guns, just in case he would try something stupid.

"I need a drink now," he said, looking completely horrified. "Can I offer you one as well?"

"Thank you but no. However, you could answer me some questions, if you don't mind."

"Questions?" Masina asked and gulped down the grappa, grimacing. "What questions?"

"I've been told you two had some side business going on."

"Well, yeah… I mean, we were friends, and…"

"What business exactly was that?"

"Real estate deals, nothing special. Why? Do you think this has something to do with Eros' death?"

Giovanni looked at him appraisingly.

"I don't know. But I was recommended to talk to you."

"By whom?"

"Eros' girlfriend."

"Sandra? Is she okay?"

"More or less. She told me to talk to you and find somebody called Bellini. Do you know someone with that name?"

"Bellini?" Masina asked carefully. "Doesn't ring a bell. There are lots of Bellinis, it's a common name. Didn't Sandra give you the full name, or an address?"

"Unfortunately, we were interrupted before she could tell me more… and then I didn't get to ask her about the details. I'll definitely try to find out later… but it might be complicated to contact her again."

"What? Why?"

"Let's say she… kinda fell apart and is in no condition to answer more questions anytime soon."

"Understandable. The two were very much in love. Could she tell you more than just that name?"

"Yes, she also gave me the name of the killer."

"Oh? Who was it?"

"A woman named Alison."

Masina frowned.

"Alison? I don't know any Alison."

Giovanni took a deep breath.

"Neither do I. Anyway, it was nice talking to you. If you find out anything else or remember someone named Bellini after all, here's my phone number."

He handed him a business card and Masina took it. Then he turned to leave.

"I'll see you out," Masina said and followed him to the door.

"Thank you," Giovanni replied, "that's very kind of you."

The four men left the office. Masina accompanied them down the hallway, passing a janitor who stood on a ladder, fumbling around with the security camera up on the wall, until they reached the elevator. The three men entered the lift and Masina waited until the door had closed. Then returned to his office, noticing with a frown that the janitor was gone, only the ladder was still there. His secretary also wasn't at her desk. Probably in the bathroom. He entered his office again and stopped dead in his tracks. A red-haired woman had made herself comfortable on the couch and smiled coolly at him.

"Hello Jonas," Catherine Weaver said, "I hope you don't mind my intrusion, your secretary seems to be taking a break."

* * *

Giovanni Maniero entered his black limousine, followed by his two bodyguards.

"Where to now, boss?" the driver asked.

"Back to Venice. I need to visit Eros' place again."

"Isn't it still cordoned off by the police?"

"The house, yes. But not the surroundings. I need to speak to… someone."

"What about Masina?"

"He lied to me about not knowing Bellini. But he was truly shocked hearing about Eros' death, and I believe him when he says he doesn't know the killer and has nothing to do with it."

"Do you want us to give him a grilling?"

"No. First things first, I want to find Eros' killer and get my revenge. Then I'll deal with Masina. I have a hunch that both he and my son had some kind of business dealings with that ominous Bellini, and that Masina wants to exclude me from it - for whatever reason."

"Our contacts at the police say the prime suspect at the moment is Gabriella Santini, a contract killer who regularly works for us. Her fingerprints and DNA were on the murder weapon. Our men can't find or contact her. Obviously, she's gone into hiding."

"Smoke candles to distract us from the actual killer. Sandra knew Gabriella. She might have been at the scene, yes, but Sandra would have given me her name if it was her who killed Eros."

"Sandra Cianni? You know where she is? Everyone's been looking for her, but she seems to have fallen off the face of the Earth."

"I'm afraid I know where she is, and that's worrying me. My visit in Masina's office convinced me that I haven't been hallucinating. And that certainty now scares the shit out of me."

"Scared? You, boss?"

"Something else is going on here, something bigger… and spookier. Never mind. Let's go. We need to be there before it gets dark."

The driver hit the accelerator and the heavy limousine sped away.

* * *

Masina stood in the door frame of his office and looked at the woman sitting on his sofa. Confused, he looked back and forth between his office, the anteroom with his secretary's desk, and the hallway.

"How did you…?" he began. "I was only away a few seconds..."

"We need to have a talk," Catherine stated. "In private. Would you please come in and close the door? There's a draft."

Perplexed, Masina closed the door. Catherine smiled satisfied.

"To what do I owe the honor of your visit?" Masina asked carefully and walked back to his desk.

"Oh, I was in the area and had to think about our nice chat at the dinner party six months ago."

"You told me to get lost," Masina replied coolly and sat down in his desk chair.

"I'm not a fan of secret brotherhoods with their silly rituals. I asked around, and I understand that you've also approached my husband and Kenneth Fletcher just a couple of days ago."

"How do you…?"

"In case you haven't heard, I recently acquired controlling interest in Farnsworth Enterprises. Kenneth and I have been exchanging information regularly."

"What do you want, Catherine? Get to the point, my time is precious."

The annoyance but also nervousness in Masina's voice hadn't escaped Catherine's attention.

"He knows you've been lying, you know," she stated.

"What?"

"Giovanni Maniero. You told him that the name Bellini doesn't ring a bell. He didn't believe you."

Masina looked at her sternly.

"Have you bugged my office?"

"What if I had?"

"Then I'd call the police right now and turn you over to the authorities."

"Interesting statement from someone who tried to hack into Zeira Corp."

Masina seemed taken aback.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"My company's computer network works with artificial intelligence. It operates a million times faster than the world's most powerful computers. Tracking your hacker here to this building was easy once he took our bait. Denying it is pointless, Jonas. So let's behave like intelligent people and avoid an unnecessary charade."

Masina was speechless. He forced himself to calm down, then took a deep breath. The nerve to simply come here and confront him like that.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly.

"I want to inform you of your options."

Masina laughed.

"**_You_** want to inform **_me_** about my options?"

"Yes."

"Humor me. What options?"

"Option A: You stop spying on me and my company and convince your buddies from the _51 Society _that it's not worth pursuing this any further."

Masina stared at her open-mouthed.

"It was **_you_**!" he then exclaimed. "**_You_ **broke into my office last night! **_You_ **stole the email conversations!"

"It wasn't me personally… but associates of mine, loyal partners who operate worldwide under the radar. Imagine for yourself what exactly that means. Suffice to say that you have no idea what you're dealing with. And yes, I have your emails, and I have decrypted them all."

"That's impossible! It would take the most powerful computer in the world years to break the encryption and..."

"I know all the member names of the _51 Society_, I know your rituals, your secrets and I know the place in Canada where you meet. I even know that you started spying on me because you and _your_ friends blame me and _my_ friends for some losses you recently had. As I said, I have access to computing power far beyond your imagination."

Again, Masina was speechless for a moment.

"And are we right about you?" he then asked. "Were you responsible for the losses we had? Are you working together with those cyborgs?"

"Yes. Also with the C.S.I.S. and the new President of the United States, in case you're interested."

"What about Kaliba and the Shadow Council? Was that your doing?"

"Yes, that was us."

"Cox Oil?"

"Yeah, I gotta pin that on myself too."

"Ludwig Ziegler?"

"He had become a threat and refused to cooperate, so we had to act."

Masina stared at her furiously.

"You are aware that our society combines the power of currently fifty international economical leaders with a huge amount of financial power and influence? We have not only one state leader behind us, but over twenty!"

"Excuse me, but do I look impressed to you?" Catherine asked unfazed.

Masina considered her. He had to admit that woman looked as cool as ice, the most perfect poker face he'd ever seen. She was very sure of herself. Maybe too sure? He needed to find out.

"Just out of interest," he asked after forcing himself to calm down again, "in case I refuse to accept option A, what is option B?"

"I'll destroy you, your company and ruin every single member of your precious _51 society_."

He laughed, pulled a drawer open and again put the bottle of grappa on his desk.

"You're delusional, Catherine."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Am I?"

"Yes," Masina replied and stood up, pointing a gun with a screwed-on silencer at Catherine. "You're delusional when you believe that you can blackmail me or any other member of the 51 Society into submission. We swore an oath to protect our organization against outsiders – by any means necessary."

"A rash action? That's a really stupid move," Catherine replied, completely unimpressed by the gun that was pointed at her. "I'm disappointed, Jonas."

"The stupid move was to come here and try to intimidate me."

"Decency demanded that I warned you. You cannot win this."

"We'll see."

_PLOP… PLOP… PLOP…_

Masina fired three times. Each one of the three bullets hit Catherine in the chest. But there was no blood. Instead, the projectiles entered her body, causing her surface to ripple like water. Open-mouthed, he stared at her and then looked confused at his gun. He fired a fourth shot directly at her head and kept firing until his magazine was empty. But all the projectiles were absorbed by her body.

"Feel better now?" she asked.

"What the fuck…?"

"You're a fool, Jonas," she stated coolly and turned her right arm into a metal spear, "as I told you, you don't know what you're dealing with. And now that you begin to have an idea of it, you won't live to see the consequences of your actions."

Masina stared at her, the color suddenly leaving his face.

"What…? How…?"

"Goodbye, Jonas."

"No, wait! We can talk about…"

She extended the pike and pierced Masina's chest. He gasped. Horrified, he looked down on himself and then back at Catherine, the gun slipping from his hand as all power left his body.

"I'll take it from here, Jonas," she said and – to his dismay - morphed her body into his. "I offered you a chance to get out of this alive. But you didn't have the format to go down that road. And now it's too late."

Then she pulled the spear out of his chest and turned it back into an arm. It was the last thing Masina saw before he fell to the ground behind the desk, his dead eyes wide-open in shock, staring into nothing.

The door to the office opened and Marcella, the secretary, entered.

"Mr. Masina," she said, "is everything okay? I thought I heard you talking to someone, but nobody entered your office."

"Everything's fine," Catherine replied. "I had a phone call and put it on speaker. Say, why don't you take the rest of the day off and go home? I have an appointment in Venice and need to go there now."

"This is... very kind of you, Mr. Masina. Thank you, I'll use the time to visit my mother in hospital."

"Excellent idea, do that."

Smiling, Marcella turned around and left the office. Catherine went behind the desk, knelt down, took Masina's cellphone, his gun, and picked up the empty shell casings as well. She looked into the drawer and found a second magazine. Then she pulled out a USB stick and plugged it into Masina's PC. The computer and everything stored on it would be completely destroyed by a program written by John Henry. After it was done, she pulled out the USB stick again, walked over to the safe, opened it and took out the manila folder with the architectural drawings of the Palazzo Bellini. She closed the safe again, then looked one last time at Jonas Masina's body.

"One would really wish that intelligent people like you would be more reasonable," she stated, shaking her head, "what a waste."

Catherine left the office, morphed into a janitor again and walked down the staircase. It was the same shape she'd used when she'd disabled the security camera in front of Masina's office before entering it. The camera had only recorded how Giovanni Maniero entered the office with his bodyguards. It wouldn't show anything beyond that time index. However, the other cameras in the building would see Maniero leave shortly thereafter. When Masina's body would be found, the police would probably conclude that Maniero had killed Masina.

There would be ambiguity. But in the end, everything would focus on Eros' father, especially since the investigation into his son's death in Venice would very likely reveal the business relationship between Masina and Eros. The police would conclude that Masina had Eros assassinated and then became a victim of his father's revenge. Now Catherine only had to make sure that nobody would live to contradict this version.

She left the building, then entered the rental car she'd parked around the corner, morphed back into her normal shape and drove towards Verona airport, where her business jet waited for her. She'd come directly to Verona after she'd had a long talk on the phone with John last night. He'd filled her in about all the details of this operation, but the decision to come here had been a spontaneous one after decrypting the e-mails Emily had sent to John Henry.

John and the others didn't know she was here yet, but they would soon learn about her presence. After all, there was this woman Alison had found and who she needed to check out. According to John, her name was Gabriella Santini and she used to be a callous killer. That's one thing she had in common with her. It would be interesting to see if Gabriella would be able to represent her in her office at Zeira Corp.

But first things first. Eros' father needed to be dealt with. Catherine still had time enough to fly to Venice and take a boat from Marco Polo Airport to Murano before Giovanni Maniero and his goons arrived there.

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 21st, 2009 – 04:12 p.m.**

**Sacca Serenella - Murano**

Giovanni Maniero walked away from the jetty towards Eros' house. His bodyguards stayed behind and waited for him at the boat, because against their protests, he'd insisted on going alone. Rush hour traffic had been tight, and they'd needed almost two hours before arriving back in Venice. From there, they'd taken a speed boat directly to Murano. When they saw him disappearing into the undergrowth, the two bodyguards looked after him thoughtfully.

"Any idea what's going on here?" the first one asked.

"Nope," the second one replied. "The boss is heartbroken over the death of his son, maybe he wants to visit the scene of the crime again."

"I hope he knows what he's doing. Somehow, this island gives me the creeps. Twenty-one men were killed here last night. This place is cursed."

"You don't really believe their spirits are gonna haunt this island, do you?"

"There are more things between heaven and earth than we can possibly imagine. The way Eros and his men were killed is spooky. And there's still no trace of Sandra."

"The boss said he knows where she is."

"Maybe she's dead and he's been talking to her spirit?"

"You and your belief in supernatural mumbo jumbo. Get a grip on yourself."

"It's just that… I feel sorry for the girl."

"Seriously? You have a crush on Sandra Cianni?"

"Hey, she's beautiful."

"She's a snake."

"I wouldn't push her out of my bed, though."

"You're sick."

"Shut up."

"Hey, do you hear that?"

"What?"

"Listen."

"I don't hear anything."

"Exactly. Nothing, not even seagulls. They stopped squawking all of a sudden."

"Now, who's the superstitious one here?"

Suddenly, a branch cracked behind them. The two drew their guns and spun around. Jonas Masina came walking towards them. When they recognized him, they lowered their weapons again.

"Mr. Masina?" The first one asked confused. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Why, coming to visit the scene of the crime, of course," Jonas Masina replied with a smile.

Then he lifted his arm, pointing a gun with a silencer at them.

_PLOP… PLOP…_

The two sank dead to the ground with holes in their heads before they could react. Catherine looked at the two bodies, then followed Giovanni Maniero towards the house.

* * *

The mafia boss stepped into the backyard and looked around. It was quiet there. Police and forensics had left the place and he and his two bodyguards were now the only people present on the island. Was he really going to do this? What if he was going insane? Then again, he had nothing left to lose. His wife died a year ago, and now he'd lost his only son. So why not give it a try? Nobody was watching him. He took a deep breath.

"HELLO?" he called out. "SANDRA, ARE YOU HERE? I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!"

He waited. But nothing happened.

"I TALKED TO MASINA! HE SAID HE DOESN'T KNOW ANYONE WITH THE NAME BELLINI! AND HE KNOWS NOBODY WITH THE NAME ALISON! PLEASE! I NEED YOUR HELP! WHAT HAPPENED HERE? WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?"

Again, he waited for a moment but the only thing he noticed, was the wind that moved the bushes.

"Why am I making a fool of myself?" he muttered and turned around to leave.

Then he heard a rustle behind him. He stopped to look, and suddenly the yard was full of rats.

"I didn't imagine it, did I?" he asked, almost relieved. "You're really here. And somehow you speak through these rats."

The animals formed letters with their bodies again.

MASINA

MENTIVA

SU

BELLINI

_Masina was lying about Bellini._

"Yeah, I figured that out on my own. But he wasn't lying about Alison, was he?"

NO

"Who is Alison?"

DONNA

AMERICANA

"An American woman?"

ESTREMAMENTE

PERICOLOSO

"Extremely dangerous? Yeah, I'll see about that. Where can I find her?"

PALAZZO

BELLINI

"You mean Ludovico Manin's former palazzo?"

SI

"So… with _Bellini_ you meant Giacomo Bellini?"

SI

"And Alison can be found there?"

UN

ALTRO

GIORNO

_One more day._

"She's there for one more day?"

SI

Giovanni hesitated for a moment.

"I need to know, so sorry for this but Sandra is dead, right? You are her spirit who talks to me through these rats."

NON

MORTO

"Not dead? But then how?"

SONO

STATO

TRASFORMATO

_I was transformed._

Giovanni laughed nervously.

"What?"

NON

AFFRONTARE

ALISON

_Don't confront Alison._

"But I want my revenge!"

NON

COSÌ

_Not like that._

"Why not?"

LEI

TI

UCCIDERÀ

_She will kill you._

"Then what should I do?"

SEGUITE

OSSERVARE

ASPETTA

OPPORTUNITÁ

_Follow. Observe. Wait. Opportunity._

"And then what?"

UCCIDERE

JOHN

_Kill John._

"Who the fuck is John?"

MARITO

SEGUITELI

_Husband. Follow them._

"Ah, I see, you want me to punish her by killing her husband, John? You want to get your revenge that way for Eros' death?"

SI

"I have to ask you this. So, sorry if I'm wrong but... did this happen to you because the rats ate your body as well? And if yes, where can I find your body?"

SOLO

EROS

MANGIATO

"Only Eros was eaten? Where is your body then?"

NESSUN

CORPO

SONO

STATO

TRASFORMATO

_No body. I was transformed_

"But... how is that possible?"

SOLO

ALISON

SA

_Only Alison knows._

"You said you don't remember feeding on his body. But you realized what you did afterwards, right?"

SI

QUINDI

VENDETTA

_Yes. Hence revenge_

"I want revenge as well. Maybe we can work together. Is there any way I can help you?"

The rats hesitated for a moment.

NESSUNO

PUÒ

AIUTARMI

MALEDETTO

TROVALI

UCCIDILI

_No one can help me. Damned. Find them. Kill them._

Giovanni nodded in understanding and pulled out his cellphone.

"I'll try."

He dialed a number and waited.

"Marco? I need you to gather a few men. Meet me at the Palazz…"

_PLOP…_

With a bullet wound to the head, Giovanni sank dead to the ground, the phone falling from his hand. The rats began squeaking in fury as they saw Jonas Masina stepping into the backyard, holding a gun.

_"Hello?"_ A male voice came from the speaker of the cellphone on the ground. _"Hello, boss?"_

The phone was pierced by a metal spear and went dead. Then Jonas Masina morphed into Catherine Weaver. The rats stared at her paralyzed.

"Nice try, Sandra. But I couldn't allow that to happen. For your information, Jonas Masina is dead. And now Giovanni is as well. Your attempt to get revenge this way failed, and it will never succeed."

WHO

ARE

YOU

"That doesn't matter. I'm with John and Alison, the one who transformed you. That's all you need to know."

The rats screeched in anger.

"Calm down. She took your body, but she didn't take your life. However, that can be changed at any time."

She turned her index finger into a spike and impaled one of the rats with a speed that made it impossible for her to evade it. The other rats screamed as if feeling the pain as well.

"Interesting," Catherine said as she lifted the impaled rat up to her face, "what one feels, all of you feel. Remember, you may no longer be human, you may only be a pack of small, vulnerable animals most people hate and avoid. But at least you're alive. You should be grateful for that."

DEATH

BETTER

THAN

THIS

"You might think so now, but the survival instinct in you is strong. I doubt you'll throw away your life so easily."

WHY

DO

THIS

TO

ME

"I can only tell you that it wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to keep your memories. However, your current state depends on the number of bodies you share. Shall we find out how many of you have to die before your intelligence diminishes, before you finally lose what's left of your humanity?"

NO

PLEASE

"See? The will to live is still there. You have to understand that you're lucky to still be yourself."

NOT

LUCKY

HORROR

WANT

HUMAN

AGAIN

"I understand your suffering. But there's nothing I can do about it. I need to talk to Alison and ask her if something can be changed about your condition. I can't make any promises, though, you might as well be stuck in this form."

NOT

ACCEPTABLE

"I'll see what I can achieve. But in return, I expect you to stay here and no longer try to get revenge or communicate with humans, do you understand?"

WANT

REVENGE

Catherine gave the rats a scowl.

"NO!" she said authoritatively. "You won't have your revenge! Either you accept my conditions, or I'll have to tell Alison that she has to come here again and finish the job she started. And she **_will_** be able to track down every single one of you."

The rats backed away from Catherine as her voice became more and more threatening.

"Deal with it," she then stated in a calmer tone. "Remain on this island. Stay hidden. In return, I'll try to get them to help you, it's the best I can do. Do you understand?"

The rats seemed to think it over for a moment, then finally formed letters again.

YES

NO

CHOICE

"Good. Now get lost before I change my mind about this."

She threw the dead rat in the middle of the other rats, who immediately ran off in all directions and disappeared in the bushes. Catherine sighed.

"It has come to this," she muttered to herself, "I'm talking to rats to protect my friends."

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 21st, 2009 – 07:21 p.m.**

**Venice**

Everyone returned exhausted but satisfied aboard the _Rising Star_. They had visited Giudecca and the barrier island of Lido with its beaches. The next day they'd conclude their visit in Venice with a trip to Murano, San Michele and Sant'Erasmo. Unfortunately, this meant that they'd no longer be able to visit the mainland as planned. Nevertheless, everyone was satisfied with their stay, even Anne. After all, there was nothing to prevent them from returning to Italy at any time to visit Giacomo and Giulia.

"You're staying for dinner, of course," Sarah said.

"Why do I have the feeling that refusing the invitation would be pointless?" the old man asked, and everyone chuckled. "Thank you, we'd love to stay and enjoy the skills of your cooking team once more."

"We haven't even thanked you properly for what you did," Giulia added. "Is there anything we can do to repay you?"

"Being our tour guides settles the bill quite satisfactorily," John replied with a smile. "Don't worry, more than that won't be necessary."

The current watch officer approached Sarah, took her aside and exchanged a few words with her. She looked at John and Alison before nodding briefly. The officer left the salon again.

"What's up, mom?" John asked curiously.

"We have a visitor," she replied with a serious face and looked at Alison. "Your assassin buddy is here."

"Gabriella?" Savannah asked who'd overheard their talk.

"That's what the officer said."

"Good," Alison commented. "I knew she would find us. She's smart."

"She asked to come aboard," Sarah continued, "and I told him to bring her here."

Everyone waited in eager anticipation to see what would happen next. A few moments later, the former sniper was led into the salon by the officer. She was wearing sunglasses and had dyed her hair blonde. Visibly impressed by the interior of the yacht, she looked around before carefully approaching the team, which had formed a semicircle and awaited her with serious expressions.

"I have thought about your offer," she said, looking at Alison. "I suppose it still stands?"

Alison looked at John. He stepped forward.

"The offer still stands," he confirmed, "but we have yet to hear the decision of the woman whose double you are to be. She has the final say in the matter, and she alone decides whether or not our offer remains valid. The question is, though, are you willing to accept it?"

Gabriella took a deep breath.

"The police have already launched an APB on me... which means the Mala del Brenta knows who is wanted for Eros' murder. I need to disappear. So... Yes, I do. I see no alternative."

"Nobody is forcing you to do that, you know," John pointed out.

"I know. But when Giovanni Maniero learns about it, I'm no longer safe in this body, no matter where I go."

"I wouldn't worry about Giovanni Maniero any longer," Catherine Weaver said and entered the salon through the door, "and neither would I worry about Jonas Masina."

"CATHERINE!" John exclaimed joyfully and walked towards her. "What an unexpected surprise."

The two embraced warmly. Savannah did the same right after John and Catherine had separated, followed by Sarah who also embraced her best friend. The others just stared at her flabbergasted and the three cyborg girls tilted their heads.

"What are you doing here?" John asked.

"As soon as you'd filled me in last night, John Henry contacted me and told me that he'd decrypted those e-mails about the _51 Society_. I boarded my jet and flew here to confront him."

"_51 Society_?" Derek asked with a frown.

"John Henry did a little research on them. Apparently, it is a secret club of international self-made billionaires who've made it their business to use their combined financial power for influencing the world economy, avoiding laws and bypassing the respective governments. Masina was a member of them, as was Ludwig Ziegler and several other illustrious personalities you surely have heard of. There are always fifty-one members to guarantee that there can be no stalemate in votes - hence the name _51 Society_. They meet regularly in secret at a lonely former military base in Canada. Apparently they blame me, or rather us, for some of the financial losses they have suffered as a result of our activities. That's why they assigned Jonas Masina to spy on me. They obviously believe I'm connected to you and hope to find out about your identities this way."

"Are they dangerous?" Sarah asked.

"Not in the sense that they use physical force. They play their game through espionage, influence and relationships. But they could make life difficult for Zeira Corp, so I must take care of them. However, that's not something you have to worry about. You continue to enjoy your trip. And speaking of which, why don't you introduce me to your new friends first?"

"Uh, sure…" John replied. "Giulia, Giacomo, this is Catherine Weaver, we told you about her. Catherine, these are Giulia Silvani and Giacomo Bellini."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Catherine replied and stretched out her hand.

Timidly, the two of them took her hand and shook it.

"Don't be alarmed," Catherine said smiling, "I won't bite. Stabbing is more my area. But don't worry, I have no reason to kill you."

If this was meant as a reassurance, it had the opposite effect on Giulia and Giacomo.

"She's just kidding," Savannah said with a chuckle, "my mother has an extremely dark sense of humor."

"Do I?" Catherine asked, but then she smiled. "It must be true if you say so. I'm sorry, I suppose my reputation preceded me."

"So, you… you are the, uh…" Giulia said carefully.

"I'm a model T-1001 Terminator. There's no need to beat around the bush. The good news is that no one in this room needs to worry about it. Not anymore."

"Excuse me," Giacomo said, "but is it true what John and the others said about you? That you can, uh…"

"Change my shape? Yes, that's true."

She quickly morphed into Giacomo, then into Giulia and then into Catherine again. The two gasped and Gabriella, who was yet unfamiliar with Catherine, let out a stifled cry. Catherine looked at her and frowned.

"You must be the human Terminator who Alison deemed suitable to become my double."

"I… I… I…" Gabriella replied.

"You sound like a broken vinyl record. If you want to be me, that has to stop."

"It's not her fault," Alison said quickly. "I'm afraid it's my doing. I enabled her to have real emotions for the first time in her life and sometimes it still overwhelms her. Right now, she's terrified but that will get better in time. She'll learn to keep her emotions under control."

Catherine mustered Gabriella from head to toe. Then she stepped very close to her and pointed her index finger at her left eye, turning the tip into a pointy metal spike. The woman gasped and breathed heavily but didn't back off.

"Hmmmmmm," Catherine uttered somewhat satisfied, "I guess you have potential. If there is someone I trust when it comes to judging humans, it's Alison. She knows what she does."

She changed the metal tip into a finger again and stepped a few feet back.

"But you should understand that I expect one-hundred percent dedication and absolute loyalty. If you betray me, your fate will be worse than anything Giovanni Maniero could have ever done to you."

"I know," Gabriella said and gulped, "I witnessed what Alison did to Sandra."

"Did you now? Hmm, interesting."

Catherine turned towards John.

"What do you think? Should we give her a chance?"

"Why do you ask me?" John asked. "She's going to be _your_ double, not mine."

"I know, John, but on our team, you're the leader. I follow you as a loyal trooper. I would never agree to such a thing without your approval."

John smiled. He still had to get used to the fact that Catherine actually considered him her superior. It felt awkward somehow, but at the same time it made him very proud. He nodded.

"I think we should give her a chance to redeem herself. I'm sure that Gabriella is too intelligent to even think of betraying us."

"The decision has been made," Catherine said. "Alison, would you be so kind as to..."

Alison stepped forward but Gabriella backed away from her.

"Whoa…" she said, "now already?"

Catherine considered the woman who suddenly looked shocked.

"Do you have any other plans for tonight?"

"Um… no."

"Is there somewhere else you need to be?"

"No… but…"

"Is there someone you need to say goodbye to?"

"No… I…

"Do you have a passport?"

"Uh… yes but… it's worthless now."

"So, you're on the wanted list for murder, you cannot travel anywhere, the police has your DNA and your fingerprints on file, there's no place for you that is safe, no one you care about, and you have no unfinished business here. Have I summarized that correctly?"

"I… yes. But…"

"So there's no reason why you shouldn't fly back to Los Angeles with me, taking my place while I accompany you in disguise to see how you're doing."

"No, but…"

"But…?"

"I need… to prepare myself first."

"Why?"

Sarah cleared her throat.

"Catherine," she said, "it might not be a bad idea if she had some time to prepare first. You're not leaving right now again, are you? You'll stay at least until after dinner, right?"

Catherine looked at John.

"Mom's right," he said. "Let's have dinner first, we'll bring each other up to date and then Alison can administer Gabriella her nanobots. Give her a few hours, so she can prepare herself. It's not an easy thing to forever give up the body you were born in."

"Can confirm," Jody added, "I've also been transformed in full, and even though it was because I wanted it, it took some time to prepare for it. It's not an easy thing to cope with when you look into a mirror and see a stranger looking back at you."

"Very well," said Catherine. "But we have no time to lose. I must train her and teach her things. She must learn to speak like me and move like me. I have to teach her everything about Zeira Corp and I have to do it fast. Because there's no time to lose. There are places I need to be if I want to deal with the _51 Society_."

"Care to explain?" John asked.

"They'll soon learn about Masina's death and that their secret e-mails have been decrypted, so I'll have to act quickly. And to not arouse any suspicion, someone has to cover for me at the office during that time. But to be honest, with that Italian accent of hers that will be hard to achieve on such short notice."

"I might be able to help you with that," Alison said. "I can alter the speech center in her brain so that she not only speaks like you, but also matches your Scottish dialect perfectly."

Catherine raised an eyebrow.

"You can do that?"

"Yes. Haven't done it before but it should work and I..."

"Uh-oh," Derek interrupted her. "Careful. We've had bad experiences with _'should work' _when it comes to Alison and her abilities. Not that Gabriella ends up swapping her Italian accent for a Chinese one... or worse, suddenly starts braying like a donkey."

"Could that happen?" Gabriella asked anxiously.

"Don't listen to Derek," Cameron replied. "He likes to hear himself talking sometimes."

Derek showed her the middle finger and Cameron stretched out her tongue in reply.

"He has a point, though," Sarah said and looked at Alison, "can you guarantee that the transformation will work as intended?"

"Yes," Alison replied, "ever since I received the upgrade, I have much more control."

"So… leaving Sandra Cianni's personality and memories intact was not an accident?" Catherine asked.

"What?" John asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me start at the beginning. Originally, I only came here to confront Jonas Masina about trying to hack into Zeira Corp. But then Giovanni Maniero appeared. Masina's secretary has the bad habit of listening to her boss' conversations over the intercom. So I could listen, too. I realized that Eros' father knew things he couldn't normally know. He claimed to have talked to Sandra and that she told him to talk to Masina."

Catherine told them in detail what had happened in Verona and that Masina and Giovanni Maniero were now dead. And she also told them about her encounter with the rats.

"Good God," Charley exclaimed. "Are you saying that girl is still fully aware of herself and what happened to her?"

"Yes," Catherine answered. "Her personality, her intelligence, her memories, everything is intact. Only she's not a girl anymore. She communicates by forming letters with her rat bodies."

"That's so gross," Jody said and shivered, "disgusting."

"Above all, it's tragic," Jesse pointed out.

"So… Masina and Eros' father are dead?" Giulia asked shocked.

"Yes, I had no choice. Masina was unreasonable. He completely misjudged his situation and pulled out a gun to shoot me. Unfortunately, that meant I had to kill him because he couldn't be allowed to know what I really am. And Giovanni Maniero knew Giacomo's name and address. Sooner or later, he would have ended up on your doorstep, and we probably agree that that was to be prevented, right? But don't worry, the police will have no clue what's behind it all. They'll be in the dark and never find out what really happened."

"They will if they search Masina's safe!" Giulia argued.

"Ah… that's why I made sure to bring this."

Catherine pulled out the Manila folder with the architectural drawings and put it on the table. For a moment, nobody spoke.

"Good thinking, Catherine," John finally said.

She smiled at him.

"I don't know what to say," Giacomo said as he browsed through the drawings. They look like Ludovico has drawn them himself."

"These will also help us with explaining how we found the treasure," Giulia said, and her uncle nodded.

"Yes. I hate to say it but now that Masina is dead, everything's become easier."

"Now about Sandra," John said and turned towards Alison who suddenly looked very sheepishly.

"Yeah, let's talk about that," Derek stated grimly, "once again, the use of your Nanobots has gone thoroughly wrong. Can't you ever do anything right?"

Alison's eyes flashed up in red for a second.

"Derek, you're not helping," John said and then looked at his wife. "So, what Savannah said in theory is true? Those rats are even able to communicate with humans?"

"Yes, the nanobots have obviously formed a network which connects and combines the rats' brains, so that in sum they contain everything Sandra was."

"Ugh, sometimes I hate being right," Savannah commented. "It was just a theory... until now."

"Would you like to explain to me what happened?" Catherine asked.

"I wanted her to be aware of her punishment, but not to keep her human consciousness," Alison replied. "At the same time, I didn't want her to be the victim of natural enemies or to be harmed in any way. The nanobots interpreted this in their own way. They concluded that in order to survive, it was necessary to preserve Sandra's human intelligence and personality. So, they connected the rat brains through a neural network that preserved her mind. It was highly unlikely that they would choose this option, and it must have taken a while, because until we left, the rats showed no signs of such a development."

"Your explanation seems to be accurate," Catherine remarked. "When I witnessed her conversation with Giovanni, she said that she doesn't remember feeding on Eros' body. Apparently, it took a few minutes for the nanobots to form the network."

"Wait, didn't the rats sense your presence while you were eavesdropping on them?" Sarah asked. "I thought all animals can sense Terminators."

"Not these rats, obviously. Probably because her mind is still that of a human – a very angry one, I might say. She may not remember doing it, but she knows that she fed on Eros' body, and she's absolutely furious about it. Hence her desire for revenge."

"I'll do better next time," Alison said with her lips pressed together. "I learn as I practice. Next time, I will be even more precise in my instructions."

"'_Next time'_?" Charley asked flabbergasted. "Jesus Christ…"

"I have to agree that this kind of learning by doing is reckless and irresponsible," Sarah stated.

"It's risky, we all know that," John defended his wife. "But we also all know that Alison needs to use her abilities in order to master them. Someday we may have to rely on them, and then they need to be working perfectly."

"I can't imagine what a day this could be," Charley said, "and I hope I never live to see it."

"All right, that's enough!" Lauren stated authoritatively, causing everyone to stare at her. "Let's not forget that without Alison, we all wouldn't be standing here now. I mean, yeah, she screws up sometimes, but she also saved our butts numerous times."

For a moment, there was an embarrassed silence. Not only because it was unusual for Lauren to speak up like that but also because everyone realized she was right. This wasn't the time for blame games. Everyone lowered their gaze, even Charley.

"Thank you, Lauren," John said with a smile. "Now let us analyze the situation with a clear head. Alison, so I understand that the rats function like one single organism now?"

"Yes, John. They form one single entity. That's why they all screamed in pain when Catherine killed one of them. It must have been comparable to what a human would feel if you cut off a part of their body."

"So, she's a woman, trapped in the body of 152 rats?" Jody asked.

"Only 151 rats now, but yes."

"This is so wrong and so gross on so many levels," Louise remarked.

"I think we can all agree to that," John said. "Now let's think about a way to change that."

"Can you transform her into a human again?" Sarah asked.

"I'm afraid not," Alison said.

"How should that work?" Derek asked. "She cannot simply glue the rats back together like a broken vase."

"Jesus," Charley exclaimed, "talking about real life body horror."

"But there must be something you can do," Sydney said, "I mean, you can't leave her like that, can you?"

"There's only one thing I could do. Their brains are connected via the nanobots. So, destroying the nanobots with an electric shock would destroy the network."

"That would effectively kill off her humanity once and for all and leave just rats, right?" Allie asked.

"Yes. A death of personality. The original intention was to avoid that, leaving just enough of her former self intact for her to be aware of what happened. Only now she is too aware of it."

"So, the electric shock option is not an option," John summarized. "Her punishment wasn't supposed to be death. We have no proof she ever killed anyone."

"Something has to be done, though," Sarah stated. "She knows what happened, she can communicate, she can talk to people, tell them about who killed Eros, his father, and Masina. She can reveal our presence here in Venice. And she knows now what Catherine is."

"I made it clear to her that sharing her knowledge with anybody would inevitably lead to her death," Catherine said, "and that I would try to get you to help her if she'll refrain from doing so. She agreed to the arrangement. But she also said that death might be the better choice for her. So, I don't know if she'll really keep her end of the bargain."

"Her promises never counted for much," Giulia remarked. "Once she's out of her present condition and feels safe again, she won't keep her word."

"Then maybe her death would be the best for everyone, including her," Sarah suggested.

"No," Charley contradicted, "there has to be another way. I understand she's a bad person. But still, she doesn't deserve to die... or live as rats."

"The best you can say about her is that she was a scheming viper," Giacomo argued, "an opportunist with criminal energy."

"But that isn't enough to condemn her to such an existence," Giulia argued.

"Also true."

"Maybe Future Alison knows how to put her back together," Morris suddenly suggested. "We could ask her."

"Only one problem with that," John replied, "Future Alison disappeared without a trace."

"True. But she said she'll visit us from time to time. Maybe we can ask her then and…"

"Yes!" John exclaimed in a suddenly excited tone. "That's it. You're brilliant, Morris!"

"I am?"

"Yes, you just gave me the solution… I hope."

"What solution, John?" Charley asked.

Instead of answering, John turned towards Alison.

"We'll be visiting Murano tomorrow," he said. "I want you to separate from us as planned, find Sandra and talk to her."

"What am I supposed to tell her?"

John smiled and explained his idea.

"That could actually work," Sarah said. "But it's a bet on something that's completely uncertain, and it might only work for a limited time."

"Yes, but don't underestimate that hope can be an extremely strong motivator, and Alison is going to give her hope. That'll buy us time and keep Giacomo and Giulia safe."

"**_If_** Sandra agrees."

"Yes, **_if_** she agrees. But let's face it, she has no other option."

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 21st, 2009 – 07:59 p.m.**

**Verona**

Nothing was the same anymore.

Stefano Ingegneri sat in his office in front of his three monitors and thought about what had happened today.

Jonas Masina was dead.

Murdered. With a sword or something, right through the chest.

Probably by Giovanni Maniero. Looks like his boss had been in league with the mafia. None of this made any sense to Stefano. And most of all, he didn't see any sense in his work anymore. Why was he still there? For what? With Masina's death his job was obsolete, wasn't it?

Who would run the company now? Masina's children were far too young for that and his widow had no idea how to run a company. Presumably a manager would be appointed to take over. But what would happen to Stefano? Would they keep him, or would they fire him? The future suddenly looked very uncertain. Not even the usual binge eating seemed to help, he'd already plundered most of the vending machines. At least he hadn't been kicked out of his office. Not yet, anyway. There would be questions, unpleasant questions about his work for Masina's company, that much was certain.

While he was engrossed in his gloomy thoughts, John Henry's face appeared on the center screen. Right on time. 8:00 pm to the second, like a clockwork.

"Hello Stefano."

"Hello John Henry."

"I heard what happened. It is now important that you remain calm."

"I AM CALM!" Stefano shouted at the screen before realizing what he'd just done. "I... Sorry... but what am I supposed to do now? The police are interviewing everyone who was in the building at the time of the crime. It's my turn tomorrow. What should I tell them when they ask me what I do here? I'm not officially on staff."

"Relax, it has been taken care of. You can tell them you were hired by Masina to secretly make a deal that no one else should know about, not even his lawyers or his family."

"Wait, what? What deal?"

"The sale of Masina S.p.A. to Zeira Corp."

"WHAT!?"

"It will come as a surprise to discover that Masina S.p.A. has been owned by Zeira Corp for about six months now. The deal was secretly negotiated directly between Catherine Weaver and Jonas Masina... Or at least, that'll be the official version. And we will have the appropriate paperwork and the contractual documents on our side. I have already made sure of that."

"That's crazy! People will ask questions."

"Yes. But unfortunately, Masina isn't there anymore to answer them, he took his reasons with him into his grave. And Catherine Weaver will only say that six months ago, she was approached by him at a dinner party in Los Angeles where he offered her to buy his company. Over a dozen witnesses can confirm that the meeting took place. As Zeira Corp seeks to expand internationally, Catherine has agreed to Masina's request. He didn't tell her the exact reasons for his decision, but burnout syndrome would be a plausible explanation."

"But the takeover of a company doesn't work retroactively. The sheer amount of computer data that would have to be changed and manipulated in banks, in companies... the flow of money... the falsification of documents... this cannot be managed, not even by an army of hackers. It would require magic!"

John Henry smiled.

"Took me two hours. Consider me a magician."

"What? But how…?"

"The how is not important, important is only that it's done. The deal is watertight and ironclad. No one can question or challenge it. Masina's family will have a handsome fortune that will comfort them over the loss of their beloved husband and father. They'll be among the richest families in Italy."

Stefano couldn't help but shiver. If what John Henry said was true, then it meant that Zeira Corp had resources beyond imagination. If they were able to manipulate so much computer data on a worldwide scale, they'd be more powerful than intelligence agencies - or entire states. No conventional computer system was capable of such an operation, unless... A thought crept into his mind.

"There's no technology in existence that makes such a manipulation possible," he said. "How did you do that? I know that Zeira Corp is very much involved in the development of artificial intelligence. Are you even a real person, John Henry, or am I talking to some kind of A.I. right now?"

"I'm afraid I can't satisfy your curiosity. But I can assure you that I'm a real person. If it is any consolation, you will soon be appointed as the new Head of IT of Masina S.p.A. - where you will of course continue to be in contact with me. You can even keep your office, if you want."

"What if I don't want to be a part of this any longer?"

"Need I remind you that it was you who agreed to launch illegal hacker attacks on Zeira Corp and that everything that is happening now is a direct consequence of that action?"

Stefano lowered his head but didn't reply to that.

"Cheer up," John Henry continued. "Play along and your life and career will be very successful and satisfying. And maybe you even find the answers you seek one day."

"And if I refuse to play along?"

"Well… that would be unfortunate. Don't get me wrong now, I'm not here to make threats, but Catherine Weaver values loyalty in her employees above all else."

"_Great,"_ Stefano thought_. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire."_

And he had believed that Masina was intimidating as a boss.

"If you do your job well, you will soon find out that Catherine Weaver is an excellent employer. She's admired by her coworkers, and not without good reason. You're in good hands, Stefano. Just don't make the mistake of biting those hands."

It was as if John Henry had read his thoughts.

"It seems you made me an offer I can't refuse," he said.

John Henry smiled.

"That's one way of putting it. But I can assure you that you won't wake up with a severed horse's head in your bed."

**-0-**

**Wednesday, January 21st, 2009 – 08:55 p.m.**

**Venice**

Dinner was over.

John's Plan had been discussed and refined during the meal. Even though its success was far from guaranteed, it seemed to be the most promising option. Now they had formed a circle around Gabriella and Alison.

"Last chance to call it off," John said. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? There will be no way back anymore."

Gabriella took a deep breath, looked at him and then nodded.

"Do it."

"Open your mouth," Alison stated and took a step towards the woman.

Gabriella complied, and Alison let a big glob of her nanobot gel fall into her mouth.

"Swallow."

She gulped it down with a grimace.

"Now what?"

"Now we wait a few moments. The nanobots are spreading through your body in the blood stream and when they reached every last corner, they'll start the transformation. Might take about a minute."

Gabriella closed her eyes, and everyone waited for the metamorphosis to begin. Giacomo and Giulia in particular watched in fascination as it was the first for both of them to witness Alison's transforming abilities.

"Didn't you say you can also change people by simply touching them after your upgrade?" John asked. "Why still this procedure with the nanobot gel?"

"I can make minor changes through touching," Alison applied. "But a full body transformation needs a large number of nanobots. It would take several minutes if not longer to administer them through skin contact. The gel is still much quicker and easier."

"Something's happening," Gabriella stated, "my body is tingling all over. It's as if my veins are being flooded with hot water. I… I…"

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, then the transformation began. Her hair turned red, her face morphed, she grew a few inches taller and her figure adjusted accordingly. When she opened her eyes again, she was the spitting image of Catherine Weaver.

"Wow, that felt strange," she said and gasped upon hearing her own voice as it spoke not only in Catherine's voice but also in her Scottish accent. "Oh my God… this is so weird."

She looked down on herself and then at her hands.

"I'd say it was a success," Catherine said and stepped towards her new doppelganger, putting her hand on Gabriella's. "She even has Catherine's DNA."

"Of course," Alison confirmed, "I programmed the nanobots according to the hair you brought."

Catherine nodded.

"The hair from Catherine's hairbrush was all that was left of her. I figured I better bring it when I travel to Italy. "

"How do you feel?" John asked.

"I feel fine," Gabriella replied, still flinching from the sound of her own voice and dialect. "All memories seem to be intact."

"Of course," Alison replied. "Why would I delete them? Unfortunately, I can't add new memories to your brain, I can only adjust your motor skills, and language is a part of them. However, I have equipped you with a higher intelligence and an eidetic memory, so it will be easier for you to learn and process all the new information."

"Wait, you can do that?" Derek asked. "You can make people smarter?"

"In general yes, if the original IQ is high enough. Gabriella was already highly intelligent, so it was easy to crank it up a bit more. In your case, however... well, let me put it this way, you can't grow much in a field without nutrients."

Everyone laughed.

"Very funny," Derek replied sourly, "ha ha ha…"

"Don't let her tease you," Jesse said and kissed him. "A high IQ isn't everything."

"What?" Derek asked. "I have an IQ of 110, that's above average!"

"Shut up, Derek," Sarah said but had to suppress a smile.

"What happens now?" Gabriella asked.

"Now," Catherine said, "you will fly back to L.A. with me. It'll also be the first time you're me. Your debut performance, so to speak."

"And what about you? There can only be one Catherine Weaver, not two."

"Never forget that I can become everyone and everything. I will be with you, but you will not always see me or even notice I'm there. For the flight back home, I'll turn myself into a set of suitcases. Once we're on the plane, I will start with teaching you about myself."

"And you're sure we can't convince you to stay longer?" Sarah asked.

"Unfortunately, I have to be back in my office in the morning," Catherine replied. "Or rather, **_we _**have to be back in my office. I need to introduce Gabriella… sorry, I need to introduce _Catherine _to John Henry and Alistair."

"Isn't that all a bit much at once?" John asked. "Maybe start it slowly."

"No, it's okay," the human Catherine said. "I've always been a quick learner. But I have a question: where am I going to live?"

"In a new house in Bel Air I recently obtained," the original Catherine replied. "I will provide you with sufficient funds, bodyguards and discreet personnel so that no one will suspect anything."

"What about Isaak and Savannah?" Derek asked. "You have to tell them about her."

"Of course, and I will. But for now, she'll only be commuting between the Bel Air mansion and Zeira Corp. I'll introduce her to my daughter and my husband later. First we need to find some kind of balance between our lives. Then there will be times when she will be with Isaak and Savannah, and there will be times when she won't."

"Does Isaak know about this at all?" Anne asked.

"Yes, I informed him while flying here. Understandably, he wasn't too enthusiastic about it, but I assured him that he won't have to share a bed with her and that we'll spend the same amount of time together as always. However, I'm not sure how I'm going to break the news to my young daughter." She looked at the adult Savannah. "Any suggestions, dear?"

"All I can recommend to you, mother, is to be honest with her. She will understand and maybe even find it great to have two mothers at the same time - one who can transform herself into anything and one who is like her original mother."

"Nobody ever said anything about me becoming a mother," the human Catherine objected. "I have always firmly believed that I'll never have children, especially since I have no affinity with men."

"Nobody is prepared to become a mother," Sarah replied with a smirk, "believe me, you'll grow into the role, all women do."

"Also, nobody said it was going to be easy," Alison pointed out. "You'll need your time to adjust to the new life. But I'm sure you'll master it."

"Before you leave," Giulia said, looking at the original Catherine, "can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure, what do you want to know?"

"Was it hard for you to take the place of Catherine Weaver?"

"Yes. Very hard. I'm not human. I needed to reinvent myself. What I am, what I have become, is the result of living the life of Catherine Weaver. My doppelganger will have it much easier, as she is already human."

"But despite the fact that you're a machine, everyone who knew Catherine bought it?"

"Of course. Nobody in their right mind would think that a shape-shifting android has taken her place. But that doesn't mean people didn't notice a change. However, they blamed it on the trauma after the accident, on the loss of Lachlan Weaver. It's the way humans rationalize these things."

"But there'll be no explanation for a difference in behavior between your new doppelganger and yourself. She has to become a little like you, and you have to become a little like her."

"That is correct. It will be an adjustment process for both of us and we'll both have to learn from each other."

Giulia smiled.

"Thanks, that's all I wanted to know."

"Very well, if no one has anything else to say, my new double and I will now leave for the airport. Alison, Cameron, Emily, would you mind carrying the bags?"

And with that, she split her body into three parts and transformed into a set of suitcases. Gabriella looked down upon them, asking herself if she really made the right decision. But in the end, this was better than being dead. And way better than what had happened to Sandra.

**-0-**

**Thursday, January 22nd, 2009 – 11:07 a.m.**

**Murano**

The team left the water bus after docking in Murano Navagero, the easternmost island of the small archipelago north of the main islands of Venice. It was agreed that the team would enter Murano as far away from Sacca Serenella as possible to rule out that Sandra would discover them first. As soon as they were on land, Alison separated herself from them and quickly headed for Eros' former private island while the rest of the group went to visit the glass factories.

There was no direct route to Sacca Serenella. Alison had to zigzag across the small islands, crossing two bridges, until she finally stood in front of the wooden bridge that led to Eros' former hiding place. It was blocked with a wire mesh fence, and a sign said to keep out because it was private property. Alison checked the area, noticed no one nearby and tore the fence apart. Then she crossed the bridge and quickly walked to the luxurious property hidden behind all the dilapidated and overgrown factory buildings. Moments later she was standing in the backyard. The body of Giovanni Maniero was gone, but the yard was cordoned off. Obviously, the police was already finished here… again.

Alison ducked under the cordon and entered the backyard. If the assumption about the nanobots connecting the rats was right, she would have no trouble locating them. And indeed, the rats were nearby, and she was able to make them aware of her presence – which seemed to scare them off, though, as Alison noticed the distance between her and them getting bigger.

"I'M NOT HERE TO HARM YOU," she said loudly. "I've talked to the android who killed Giovanni Maniero. I know that you're still here, Sandra. I've come to make you an offer which could result in you becoming human again."

Alison waited. The rats had stopped running away from her. Obviously, they were thinking it over.

"You've got nothing to lose," Alison added, "but everything to win. Don't be stubborn or stupid now, because I won't come here again if you are."

She sensed the rats coming closer and sure enough, one by one they carefully gathered in the yard a few moments later. Like Catherine had described it, they began forming letters on the ground with their bodies.

DON'T

TRUST

YOU

"Of course you don't trust me, and why should you? I'm responsible for your current condition. The nanobots I fed you, have created a network that connects your brains. Thus, you function like one single entity. That wasn't the plan but as a result, you're still yourself."

NOT

HUMAN

BUT

RATS

"Yes, but your human mind is still intact. Believe it or not but it was never my intention to kill you. And I won't do that now, unless you force me to. Understand that I could shut down the network within a second. All your humanity would be gone. I'm guessing you don't want that?"

WHAT

YOU

WANT

"I want to make you an offer. There might be a way to merge your 151 bodies into one body again, a human body."

HOW

"I don't know yet, I currently lack the knowledge. This has never been done before. There is need for research."

VAGUE

"I know, but I can't be more precise. All I can do is promise you that we'll do our best to find a solution. But to be honest, it may take months, probably even longer."

TOO

LONG

"You have to be patient. I make no secret of the fact that you will have to remain in this form for some time to come. But your condition is stable. You can survive like this for many years if necessary."

NOT

ACCEPTABLE

"Maybe I haven't made myself clear enough. Your current existence is a punishment for what you did. However, I'm here to give you a chance for early parole, so to speak. But it takes good conduct, if you know what I mean. And I'm only making you this offer once. It's your choice and you have to make it here and now. If you refuse, I have no alternative but to destroy the nanobots."

WOULD

KILL

ME

"Yes, it would delete everything you are and only leave a pack of rats."

WHY

THREAT

"Because let's face it, you're a security risk. Not so much for me or my team but for Giacomo Bellini and Giulia Silvani. You already set Giovanni on their trail and you could do it again with somebody else. I won't allow that."

WANT

REVENGE

"You have to decide what is more important to you: getting revenge or getting your human body back?"

The rats thought for a moment, then shaped a word again.

BODY

"A wise choice. You have my word that we'll do everything in our power to find a solution. But there is a catch: you can only get your body back if you follow the rules."

WHAT

RULES

"Rule number one: stay on this island, don't go anywhere else. Rule number two: remain hidden, keep a low profile. Rule number three: avoid contact with humans, under no circumstance communicate with them."

RULES

SUCK

"I'm sorry you think that way. But those are the conditions. Consider yourself on probation. This is a way to redeem yourself. I'm offering you a chance to get your life back but only if you follow the rules. No discussion."

NO

CHOICE

"Not if you want to be human again. Keep in mind that I'm the only one who can help you with that. Your DNA is still stored in my memory banks. I only need to find a way to restore your physical form. You want to be human again, don't you?"

LIKE

BEFORE

"Yes, like before."

PROMISE

"Yes, I promise. And I will keep my word if you stick to the rules. So, do we have a deal?"

YES

"Good, I'll tell the others. And by the way, should I find out that you violated the agreement, broke or bent the rules, or did something that rats normally don't do, I'll be here again within hours. I _will_ find you and I _will_ delete what's left of Sandra Gianni once and for all. The same applies in the event that something happens to Giacomo or Giulia that has no natural cause. Don't think you can outsmart me, because you can't. Is that clear?"

CLEAR

"Good, I'll be back as soon as we found a solution."

WILL

WAIT

BUT

WANT

CONTACT

"You want a contact person?"

YES

WEEKLY

"I'll see what I can do. Ideally, it needs to be someone who isn't afraid of rats."

VERY

FUNNY

"I have to go now. We'll meet again when I found a solution for your problem."

She walked away without saying another word. Behind her, the rats looked after her until she was out of sight, then quickly disappeared into the bushes again.

**-0-**

"How did it go?" John asked when Alison had rejoined the team for lunch. "Were you able to convey our offer to her?"

"Yes. She is suspicious but also desperate. I believe she will abide by the rules I have set."

"Excellent. I love it when a plan comes together."

"Is it like we suspected?" Savannah asked. "Are the nanobots holding her together?"

"Yes. And apparently, the network didn't go active until Gabriella and I had left the island."

"How will we know she'll keep her end of the bargain?" Giacomo asked. "I mean, it's not like we have any means to monitor her behavior, and my trust in her ability to honor a deal is rather limited. After all, it's Sandra Cianni we're talking about here, she's devious and cunning."

"That won't help her much," Giulia argued. "She has experienced the greatest possible humiliation, her body has been taken away from her, the instrument she has always used to assert her own interests. This lesson in humility is probably exactly what she needs. We shouldn't assume that Sandra Cianni is evil through and through and that she's beyond redemption."

"Well said," John agreed. "Nobody is beyond redemption. She wants her body back. She now knows there is a chance for that, and she also knows the price. Sandra clearly is desperate enough to follow the rules."

"I still have my doubts," the old man uttered grumpily.

"Then maybe you can be her contact person," Alison said. "She expressed her wish to have somebody to talk to on a weekly basis. You're not afraid of rats, are you?"

"What? No, but… wouldn't that be awkward: me sitting on a bench, talking to rats?"

"Not if nobody sees you," Derek said with a smile.

"I think it's an excellent idea," Giulia stated. "That way you can build up trust and keep her up to date about what's going on. She won't feel cut off from everything."

"Are you really expecting me to drive to Sacca Serenella once a week to talk with rats in order to keep them happy?"

"Why not?" Emily asked. "You said yourself that sometimes you get bored in your palazzo. Besides, people like to talk to animals."

"Yes, to cats or dogs… but rats?"

"Cats and dogs won't respond to you," Derek pointed out. "These rats, however, will. Could be an interesting experience."

"What's next? Feeding them like ducks?" Giacomo asked sarcastically.

"Well… now that you mentioned it," John replied.

"You're joking, right?"

"Hey, it's completely up to you what you do or what you talk about with her. But don't forget that if she really gets her body back, nothing can stop her from going to the police and telling the truth about Masina, Eros, us and you."

"Pah, nobody would believe her."

"Maybe not, but there's no denying that she can cause you great trouble, so you should try to be friendly, empathic. Build a relationship. Maybe she gets changed by the experience."

"I have to agree, uncle," Giulia said. "We don't know how long it takes. Weeks, months, years? Who can say? We need to take care of her during this time. The last thing we want is a bitter, lonely creature that becomes more and more radical in time. At some point she may decide that death is not such a bad option after all, and that revenge is something worth dying for."

Giacomo looked down.

"I'll see what I can do," he said in a low voice.

His niece took his hand and pressed it reassuringly. He looked at her smiling face and couldn't help but smile as well.

"I'll help you with it," she said. "It's a small price for what we gained from all of this, don't you think?"

"Well… if you put it that way…"

The waiters came and served them their food, which ended the conversation.

**-0-**

**Thursday, January 22nd, 2009 – 06:54 a.m.**

**Los Angeles**

Catherine Weaver walked energetically down the corridor to her office in the northeast corner of the Zeira Corp Tower. She was wearing a white pantsuit with white pumps and carried a dark red briefcase. As she entered the anteroom, her secretary looked up and smiled.

"Good morning, Miss Weaver."

"Good morning, Charlotte," Catherine replied and walked past her after returning the smile.

She entered her office, took place behind her desk and started her PC. Like always, the most important newspapers of Los Angeles had already been laid out for her to read. Only a minute had passed until the intercom buzzed.

"Yes, Charlotte?" Catherine replied in her usual stern tone.

"There's a delivery here for you, Ms Weaver. Have you ordered a new desk chair?"

"Yes, I did indeed. Tell the delivery man to bring the package into my office."

Seconds later, the door to her office opened and a FedEx courier entered, pushing a dolly with a big cardboard box on it into the room. Catherine got up, signed the receipt, the courier unloaded the package in the middle of the office, then took his dolly and left again.

"Should I call the janitor to assemble the chair?" Charlotte asked through the still open door.

"That won't be necessary. I'll do it myself."

"Yes, Ms Weaver."

"And Charlotte?"

"Yes, Ms Weaver?"

"Please cancel all my non-routine appointments for the morning. If possible, reschedule them for the afternoon or tomorrow."

"Yes, Ms Weaver."

The door to the office closed.

"So far, so good," Catherine said with a sigh.

The cardboard box turned into shiny metal and then reshaped into the form of Catherine Weaver.

"Well done," she said. "You entered the building and the office without anyone doubting that you're me. Not even Charlotte noticed any difference, which means your posture, your gait and your way of speaking were perfect. Excellent. You learn quickly."

"And my pulse is abnormally high," her human doppelganger replied. "How did you manage that? Sending yourself as a package with FedEx?"

"That wasn't a FedEx courier but one of my friends. His name is Norberto, and he's a Triple-Eight."

"Right... another Terminator model. Male. Usually tall."

"Correct."

"Is it really necessary for me to take a crash course like this?"

"Some say the best way to teach a child to swim is to simply throw it into the water and see what it does. In an emergency, one can still intervene."

"Okay, now what?"

"Now, you take place behind my desk. I'll stay by your side while we go over the basics. No one will come through that door unannounced because my secretary has to open it with a buzzer. That way I have plenty of time to turn into a desk chair when visitors come. Charlotte brings me a coffee at eight o'clock every morning, which I never drink but pour away - the office has its own small bathroom with a shower and a toilet. Of course _you_ won't pour it away, you will drink it."

"I'm not too fond of coffee, to be honest."

"Catherine Weaver was a caffeine junkie, and now so are you. I'll fill you in about all the things she liked or didn't like."

"Fine. What happens next?"

"I usually study the newspapers for an hour. Then, at nine o'clock, the department heads arrive for a staff meeting, which usually lasts another hour. Afterwards, Alistair Norbury will come and report on the Babylon Labs. He doesn't know about you yet, so this will be an interesting test."

"But you will tell him about me, right?"

"Yes, only not right away. Let's see if you can fool him."

"What about the box?"

"What box?"

"Charlotte saw how your friend the FedEx guy delivered a desk chair in a large cardboard box. The desk chair will be you – but what about the box?"

"Don't worry about it. Paper waste is stored in an adjacent room. Charlotte won't look in there. After work, the room is emptied by the cleaning staff. And they won't know that there should be a big cardboard box."

"I see."

"Any questions so far?"

"Not yet. I'm still too nervous to think clearly. But they will definitely come, lots and lots of questions."

"Don't worry, every question will be answered. If you feel unsure or insecure, don't let it show. Instead, excuse yourself and go to the bathroom. I'll be in there to assist you. And remember, you are now me. Forget the name Gabriella Santini, she doesn't exist anymore. You are now Catherine Weaver, and everyone will only know you under that name from now on – that includes the ones who know about you. Your word is law here, you are as much their boss as I am, nobody will challenge your authority and you'll only answer to me. The only area that's off limits to you is the Babylon Labs. They are and will remain my territory. Do you understand?"

The woman swallowed.

"Yes."

"Act confident, then everyone will eat out of your hand, even the top executives."

"I will try."

"Good. Now log into the PC, I wanna give you a short overview of Zeira Corp. We have one hour until Charlotte brings you the coffee. My username and password are as follows…"

**-0-**

**Thursday, January 22nd, 2009 – 10:54 p.m.**

**Venice**

They'd gathered on board the _Rising Star_ and had a little going-away party with Giacomo and Giulia. The three days they'd spent in Venice seemed a lot longer in hindsight because so much had happened. Needless to say, the whole team was invited to drop by for a visit at any time. At the farewell there were many hugs and also a few tears.

"Of course, you're also always welcome to visit us in Los Angeles as soon as we're back," Sarah said while she hugged Giulia. "Then we'll introduce you to James, Tarissa, Alistair, John Henry and all the others."

"And we'll show you all the sights, just like you did for us here," Lauren added.

She had just brought baby Sydney back into their suite for the night. The little one still spent most of the time sleeping and hardly ever screamed.

"We'll gladly make use of that offer," Giulia replied, "I've always wanted to come to America. It's probably much easier when you know somebody there who can show you around."

"The rules of tourism are the same everywhere, whether it's Venice or LA."

"And we'll introduce you to Eve," Louise added.

"The dog?" Giacomo asked.

"Yes, you know about her?"

"Uh… yeah, Alison told us her, um… story."

"I see. But don't feel sorry for her, she's a really happy dog. Very affectionate and playful."

"If you say so…"

"Keep us up to date with the treasure, will you?" John asked. "Now that you have the architectural drawings, you don't need to pretend anymore. You can dig a hole into the floor."

"We'll make sure to keep you in the loop," Giulia promised and hugged John, Alison, Cameron and Emily goodbye. "It was a pleasure to meet you. These were the best three days of my life."

They accompanied them to the gangway and waved at them before they disappeared into the night. Olga sighed.

"What's wrong?" Alison asked.

"Oh, nothing… this farewell just reminds me that my days with you are counted as well. I'll have to fly back to Saint Petersburg when we reach Egypt."

"We'll think about that when the time comes," said Louise and took Olga in her arms.

"You two have become quite close, haven't you?" Jesse asked.

"We're BFF's," Olga replied, "that means best friends forever."

"With benefits," Louise added.

Nobody commented on that. Everyone knew that Louise was pretty volatile when it came to love affairs. But at least she seemed to have finally gotten over Emily.

"Anyway," Savannah said, "no sad thoughts tonight. Tomorrow, we'll sail south again. And we all know what that means."

"Tanning in the nude!" Jody exclaimed. "Yay, I can hardly wait."

"I think I'll have problems at home mingling with people who aren't as open and liberal as you are in that area," Olga stated.

"Yeah, we're like ambassadors of promiscuity," Allie declared.

Everyone laughed at that.

"But that's not the purpose of this trip," Sarah reminded them, "we want to see the world, meet people, make new friends. And in Venice we succeeded with that for a change."

"Yeah, feels good, doesn't it?" John asked with a big smile.

Nobody could disagree, not even Derek. And since everything was said and done, they decided to retire to their suites.

* * *

John and his three wives undressed and took a shower together.

"John, do you still trust in me?" Alison suddenly asked while she was washing his back.

"What kind of a question is that? I trust you blindly, you know that."

"Even though I messed up with Sandra?"

"Well, I would have preferred a different outcome, but we solved the problem for now."

"You have to tell me if you don't want me to use my nanobots in that way anymore."

"If I wanted you to stop doing it, I would have told you. But it is as I said, the only way to get control over the nanobots, is practicing with them. We might need that ability of yours in the future and then you should be able to master it."

"Charley and Derek don't seem to agree. And I know that mom is skeptical as well."

"I am the team leader, though. And I still have complete faith in you."

She turned him around, put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Cameron and Emily, who had been listening to their conversation in silence, snuggled up to John. He put his arms around them and smiled, then kissed them alternately while the warm water ran down their bodies.

"Oh look," Emily observed, "little John has woken up."

"Indeed," Cameron confirmed, "should we dry off and hop into bed?"

John chuckled.

"Don't you ever want to skip it just for one night?" he asked.

The three girls looked at each other.

"No!" they said in unison.

**-0-**

It was way after 2 am and the _Rising Star_ had already left Venice when John was suddenly woken up by a loud banging on the door to their suite.

"JOHN!" Savannah's voice shouted.

"Yes, what is it?" John asked wearily, disentangling himself from his three wives.

The door opened and Savannah walked in, naked of course, holding her laptop in front of her.

"It's happened," she said, "I received the signal."

"What signal?" John asked and yawned while Alison, Cameron and Emily joined them.

"The drones," Savannah explained. "The first drones finally blew up."

**-0-**

**_Author's notes:_**

**_\- Despite its length, the previous chapter lacked some kind of closure. So here it is.  
_**

**_\- I hope I didn't overdo it with Sandra, but she also deserves a chance for redemption, I think. Besides, I kinda get a kick out of Alison's various transformation shenanigans. Her nanobot treatments having unexpected results or side-effects has become some kind of a running gag by now ;-)_**

**_\- Two Catherines – one human, one machine. We'll see where that leads us._**


	19. Catherine II

**_CHAPTER 19: "CATHERINE II"_**

* * *

**Friday, January 23rd, 2009 – 02:51 a.m.**

**The Adriatic Sea**

Everyone had gathered in John and ACE's suite and watched how Emily plugged herself into her laptop.

"You're right," she said after a moment. "A shipment of twenty drones exploded in Somalia three hours ago. How did you find out about this?"

Everyone looked at Savannah who smiled with pride.

"I've written a small program that constantly searches the Internet for certain keywords. Then I compared the search results to the destinations of the drone deliveries."

"But there's nothing on the news sites," said John, looking at his own laptop. "Google can't find anything either."

"Because my program searches not only the world wide web, but also all instant messaging applications, e-mail traffic and the Darknet. Thus I came across communications suggesting that there had been an explosion in a warehouse where the drones were stored, killing thirty-four soldiers, including an Iranian general and his escorting officers."

John whistled.

"An Iranian general in Somalia," he said. "No wonder there's nothing about it to be found. Must have been a top secret operation."

"What's so special about that?" Jody asked.

"Iran is known for secretly arming terrorist groups in the region," Derek explained. "What is happening in the Middle East at the moment, is mainly a proxy war. Maybe they were trying to supply someone with the drones?"

"For using them against Israel?" Sarah asked.

"I don't think so," John replied. "It may officially be their long-term goal to wipe out Israel, but there's no chance for that in the near future. Besides, Israel has an extremely powerful air defense. No, right now Iran considers Saudi Arabia its main rival in the region. It may be hard to believe but what is happening in the Middle East right now, is mainly a conflict within Islam, a feud between the Sunnis, represented mainly by Saudi-Arabia, and the Shiites, represented mainly by Iran. They are the two main poles in this conflict."

"Wait, what?" Morris asked. "I always thought Iran hates the West and the Jews."

"They do, but there's nothing they can really do about it at the moment. And the aversion between Shiites and Sunnis has existed for more than a thousand years, while the conflict with the West is a new one, a result of wrong, misguided policies over the last fifty years, especially on the Western side."

"Anyway," Derek said, "since Iran is known to equip terrorist groups with weapons, maybe they used the Somalis as straw men to order and receive the drones."

"Yes," Sarah agreed. "They probably couldn't import the drones directly and chose the detour over Somalia, and maybe other places - which also explains why nobody touched them until now."

"As interesting as this all is," Derek stated, "we don't want to have anything to do with it and should end it now." He looked at Emily. "Have all drones arrived at their destinations?"

"Yes, they have," Emily confirmed. "All in the Middle East and Northern Africa."

"And are they all inside compounds with no civilians close by?" Sarah asked.

"That's hard to tell. I can hack into the drones, but they don't have very sophisticated scanners. However, I can rule out with an eighty percent certainty that there are currently civilians close by at this time of night."

John chewed on his fingernails and thought for a moment. Emily looked at him.

"Should I blow them all up or should we still wait?"

John sighed.

"No… the cat's out of the bag now. The news of the explosion will spread and make the recipients cautious. I agree with Derek. We should end it now. Besides, we don't want to get meddled up in anything in the Middle East. Let others try to figure out what the hell happened."

Emily stared blankly into the distance for a moment, then looked back up at John.

"Done. I also sent a message to Alexander Lintner. He can now finally start the investigation at H.C. Starck."

"Well... let's hope the bodies in the container haven't thawed out already."

"Nah, temperatures are still way below zero there," Cameron said. "Nobody will find them unless they know where to look."

"All right then," Sarah stated, "let's get back to bed."

Everyone left the suite except for Savannah and Allie who hesitated and stayed behind.

"Yes?" John asked and looked at them questioningly. "Is there something you might like to add?"

Savannah was about to say something, but then shook her head.

"No. It can wait."

And with that, she left together with Allie, leaving the four alone. John frowned.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"They miss being with us," Alison stated. "Obviously, they want to have a talk with you, but I guess they didn't have the heart right now."

John sighed.

"Haven't we discussed all this already at the beginning of this journey? They're not banned from our quarters, just…"

"Yes, you've already discussed it with them," confirmed Emily. "But in the end, there is still no final, unequivocal solution to the problem. It has merely been agreed that the two of them will keep a certain distance and stay mainly in their own suite at night. It wasn't excluded that they might spend the night with us from time to time. But they haven't done so since we left Long Beach, and I suspect they won't do so any time soon. My scanners tell me they feel insecure, even a little intimidated".

"Oh boy… so, what do you suggest?"

"Nothing right now," Alison said, "the moment has come and gone. But there will be another one."

"So, I'm going to wait for them to approach me or what?"

"Yes, John. And if they don't, talk to them tomorrow. My guess is they'll beat you to it, though."

"I don't understand it," Emily stated.

"What don't you understand?" John asked.

"If they long so much for your love and affection, why don't you give it to them? I mean, the three of us have already made it clear that we wouldn't mind. And thanks to Alison's nanobots, you have virtually unlimited endurance in bed."

"I know that, Emily. But I cannot simply choose to love them the way they love me."

"Well, you could have sex with them."

"Yes, I could. But that's not the point."

"Then what is the point?"

John sighed.

"It's… complicated, okay!?" he replied, sounding harsher than he had intended. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay," Emily said, "all we wanna do, is understand your reasons."

John sat down and buried his face in his hands.

"I know."

"It has to do with their affair with Future John and the fact that Savannah got pregnant, right?" Alison asked sensitively and sat down next to him, stroking his arm.

John looked at her and nodded.

"I promised myself to be a better man than him."

"You already are a better man," Cameron stated, taking place at his other side, rubbing his other arm.

John frowned.

"What makes you think that?"

"Because you have become our lover and husband. You have opened up to us, and you allow yourself to be vulnerable. You accept that you make mistakes and then try to correct them. My Future John could never do that - just as he could never bring himself to reveal his feelings for me."

"You're obsessed with doing things differently than Future John," Emily added. "But you shouldn't overdo it. Just because _he_ did things differently from what _you_ would do, doesn't mean that everything he did was wrong. For example, he genuinely cared for Savannah and Allie and three gave each other what they needed."

"I know… it's just that… I cannot forgive him for having sex with them and knocking Savannah up! They were his stepdaughters, for crying out loud!"

"We got the message," Alison replied, "but Savannah and Allie shouldn't suffer because of that, don't you agree? Besides, you find them attractive. I've seen your little John reacting to their presence."

John blushed.

"I, uh… I'm surrounded by naked women from dawn till dusk… that's gotta have an effect on me. I guess you could say the same about the other men on board. That's why we all chose to remain at least partially dressed."

"Yes, John, but there are subtle differences. You're reacting more to Savannah and Allie than the other men on board. I can tell that, remember?"

"Alison, please… stop scanning my brain activities!"

"I'm sorry, but you know I can't simply switch that off."

"What happened between Savannah, Allie, and Future John, is perfectly understandable," Emily remarked, "they loved and adored each other, and Allie looks just like Cam. It was logical for him to be attracted to her, especially since in contrast to you, he'd lost Alison when Simdyne blew up."

"I'm not sure Future Cameron would have been so understanding," he pointed out.

"Probably not," Cameron agreed. "But you should know that in the here and now, we have no feelings of jealousy towards them whatsoever. We would be willing to share you with them if you so desire."

"I know that… and I have to say it's tempting. But no… I have three wives, I don't want to build a harem around me. I decided for myself that having the three of you is more than I could ever hope for."

"But it won't change the fact that they love and desire you and that by denying them your affection, you're hurting them. It won't go away anytime soon, John. It has to be addressed somehow, or they'll be driven away from us."

"I know… but I simply don't love them the way I love the three of you. And it would be totally wrong to have sex with them just because I think I should, don't you think?"

"I agree," Alison said, "but nevertheless, they belong to us, belong to you. And currently you're driving them away."

"Yes, you're right," John agreed. "And I hope you understand my dilemma. I don't want to hurt them... but I'm left with no other choice. If I agree to have sex with them, it will be because I feel an obligation to do so. Knowing that I do it because I feel it's my duty will hurt them. And if I refuse to have sex with them, they will keep feeling neglected, and it'll keep hurting them just the same..."

Alison kissed him.

"We'll find a way to solve your dilemma," she said.

"But not by using your abilities," John admonished her.

"Of course not, John. What do you think of me? Savannah and Allie are like sisters to me. Besides, they're immune to my chemical messengers anyway and my nanobots can only make physical changes. I suppose you don't want them transformed, right?"

"No, of course not. Don't even think about that."

"Together, we'll find a solution," Emily stated and kissed his neck.

"Yes," Cameron agreed, sliding off the bed and between John's legs, "I'm sure we'll find a solution. After all, the four of us can virtually achieve anything together."

John groaned in agreement as she began to pamper him with her mouth.

**-0-**

**At the same time, somewhere in India**

A phone rang in an office and a man took the call.

"Yes?"

"_Brother Mahesh?"_

"Yes, what is it, Brother Steven?"

"_You told me to investigate."_

"And?"

"_It's true. I'm afraid Brother Jonas is dead."_

"Good God! How?"

"_He got stabbed in his office. His secretary says he gave her the day off around noon. She wanted to visit her mother in the hospital but halfway she remembered that she had forgotten something on her desk. She turned around... and found Brother Jonas' body."_

"Any idea who could have done it?"

"_Forensics assume it was done with some kind of long stabbing weapon."_

"What, like a sword?"

_"Something like that, but there were no traces to indicate what exactly it was, except that it was sharp as hell and entered with remarkably high speed. However, the police suspect a local mafia boss, Giovanni Maniero, was involved somehow. He'd visited Brother Jonas right before his death. Apparently, our friend had had dealings with the mafia boss's son - who got murdered the night before. The police think Brother Jonas might have been involved in that, and Maniero had him killed for vengeance."_

"Rubbish. Brother Jonas wouldn't have been so stupid. You don't believe that, do you?"

"_No, of course not. It doesn't add up. Especially since Giovanni Maniero was also found dead later at his son's place in Venice. He and two of his bodyguards were shot with Brother Jonas' gun. So, the logical assumption is that whoever killed Brother Jonas, also killed Giovanni Maniero. The current suspect is a rogue contract killer named Gabriella Santini. She's already wanted for killing Maniero's son. A manhunt is on for her, but the police believe the mafia will find her before they do."_

"And do you also believe she was the killer?"

"_No, I think that somebody has lit a shitload of smoke candles to throw everyone off the track. The truth – as it looks like now – is that we'll never find out what really happened. But at least we have a hunch."_

"Oh?"

"_Catherine Weaver's private jet was in Verona at the time of Jonas' death and later, when Giovanni Maniero was killed, her jet was in Venice. She flew back to Los Angeles from there in the evening."_

"Fuck! Does the police know about that?"

"_No, why should they even take notice? Unlike us, they wouldn't see the connection. Besides, they're not really that much interested in solving that crime, as it seems, and are ready to blame the mafia for it, especially since neither Giovanni Maniero nor his son can talk anymore. It's the most convenient solution."_

"You know… I received a call from Brother Jonas before he died. He said that somebody had broken into his office, hacked into this computer and copied the e-mail traffic between him and our brotherhood. He assumed that the _51 Society_ might have been compromised."

"_That's impossible. All our emails are secured with the strongest encryption currently available. Only with the correct password can you read them and none of us is stupid enough to reveal this password or write it down somewhere."_

"Yes… then again, we're dealing with Catherine Weaver here, and we assume she has access to future technology. Who knows what she can do?"

"_You may be right. There's something else."_

"What is it?"

_"Brother Jonas sold his company to Zeira Corp six months ago."_

"WHAT!?"

"_I know, it's hard to believe but it all checks out."_

"It must be faked. Manipulated, forged, whatever. Brother Jonas never in his life thought of selling his thriving business."

"_I know. We already looked into it. But the deal is ironclad. Masina S.p.A. has been a part of Zeira Corp for six months. It came as a surprise, but nobody doubts the authenticity of the deal, especially since there are witnesses who saw Weaver and Brother Jonas talking to each other privately in Los Angeles half a year ago."_

"That was to try and win her for our brotherhood!"

"_I know that, you know that, the brotherhood knows that… but the rest of the world doesn't. And we can't tell anyone."_

"No, we can't. We have to deal with this differently."

"_What do you suggest?"_

"I know it's normally not our style... we try to avoid using violence. But she doesn't leave us any choice. We have to get rid of Catherine Weaver - permanently."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

"_I know the right people for this kind of operation. They are fast, thorough, discreet and extremely capable."_

"Then do it. But tell them to make it look like an accident! And no collateral damage, only her! Do you understand?"

"_Understood."_

"Catherine Weaver is the fulcrum of all their operations. Let's hope that by taking her out, we bring their organization to a stop long enough for us to regroup."

"_Shall I inform the others about everything and tell them that we cannot gather at our usual location for the time being?"_

"No, that's my responsibility. You take care of Weaver."

"_Understood. Tell me, Brother Mahesh, how did it get to this point?"_

"I don't know. I only know that if you poke a sleeping tiger often enough, it will eventually wake up and lash out at you. And we've been poked more than enough now by Catherine Weaver and her associates."

"_Do we have a plan B just in case the assassination fails for some reason? She might be very well protected."_

"Catherine Weaver has a brother in Scotland. It has come to my attention that she's very attached to him and his family. It would be much riskier and more complicated... but if killing her fails… maybe they can be used to _convince_ her to stop acting against us."

"_I understand. I will inform our brothers in Britain, just in case."_

**-0-**

**Friday, January 23rd, 2009 – 11:35 p.m.**

**Los Angeles**

After sleeping in the Zeira Corp Tower for two nights, Gabriella Santini - now the human version of Catherine Weaver - looked out the window as the driver of her black Mercedes S-Class approached the house in Bel Air that was her new home. A massive, semi-circular steel gate opened inside a high, white wall, and they drove into a circular motor court surrounded by a three-meter-high, black wall of natural stone, from the top of which water ran down and collected in narrow pools, only to be pumped back up again from there.

Opposite the entrance gate, which closed again behind them, a path led behind the house, which ran in a straight line along the edge of the property. Presumably, it led towards the garden behind the house, but she couldn't see much despite the atmospheric, pretty lighting. She only saw that the path was also lined by a wall of water on the left side, just like the motor court. Gabriella looked out of the side window to her left and saw her new home rising three stories high. It was also beautifully lit. As was the fashion for many newly built homes in the upscale residential areas of Los Angeles, it looked very modern and geometric, with right angles, a flat roof, and all-round glazed exterior walls.

A rolling gate opened on their left, granting view into a spacious garage that was located in the basement level of the house. Gabriella, or rather Catherine II now – she still had to get used to that herself – saw parking spaces for ten cars, five on each side. Three of them were already taken by a white Porsche 911 Cabrio, a black Mercedes G-Class and a green Lamborghini Gallardo. She whistled through her teeth. At least her alter ego seemed to have prepared the house well. She also noticed several adjacent storage rooms behind the parking spaces on the right.

The chauffeur steered the luxury sedan to the left and before it entered the garage, Catherine II could see a flight of stairs on the left that obviously led to the main entrance of the house. Like the motor court and the path towards the garden, it was lined by a black wall on the left from which water ran down. Those water walls seemed to be one of the design hallmarks of the house and she inevitably wondered how much of the vital liquid these water features would consume in the summer.

They drove into the garage and the chauffeur parked the S-Class in one of the empty spaces. The car's door was opened from outside by a man in a suit who was wearing mirrored sunglasses. A spiral cable was running up to an earpiece in his right ear. As she stepped out, Catherine II could see that five more men were lined up in similar attire, standing at attention.

"Welcome to your new home, Miss Weaver," the man said. "My name is Jenkins, I'm the security chief of this property. I don't know how far the, uh, _other_ Miss Weaver has already briefed you."

"Not far, actually. Wait… you know about the _other_ Catherine Weaver?"

"Yes, of course. We've been handpicked by her because we've proven to be completely loyal and trustworthy. Same goes for the rest of the staff that works here. We know that you've been surgically altered to look exactly like her in order to function as her decoy for when she's not in town. And if I may say so, whoever is responsible for that surgery, did an excellent job. I couldn't tell you apart."

"Thank you, Jenkins. So… you know that Catherine Weaver is in fact, uh…"

"A shapeshifting android from the future? Yes, we've been let in on that. Came as a shock at first, I have to say. Everyone who works here, knows about Miss Weaver's true identity and that you are to function as her human double. We are to address and treat you as if you were her. And don't worry, your secret is safe with us."

"That's good to know. You mentioned the rest of the staff…?"

"Two housemaids, a chef, and a gardener. Your driver, Morton, will also function as your butler."

"Butler, huh? Is he British?"

"Indeed, I am, Miss Weaver," Morton replied in a strong English accent as he stepped out of the Mercedes. "If you need anything at any time, you can summon me via the house's intercom."

"Neat. But it sounds to me as if I won't have much privacy here."

"Don't worry," Jenkins said, "you'll be left alone if you wish to be. The security monitors only cover the exterior of the house, not the interior, and my men only patrol the perimeter. You won't be watched or disturbed."

"That's a relief. So, where are the others? The housemaids, the chef, the gardener?"

"In their quarters. It's already late, so they went to bed. You'll meet them tomorrow."

"Yes, it's been a long day… not only for them. And I'm still a little jet-lagged."

"Would you like me to give you a quick tour of the house anyway?" Morton asked. "Or should I just show you your bedroom and we'll do it tomorrow?"

"No, it's okay. I'm too wound up to fall asleep right now. Show me around."

Morton smiled, bowed a little and made a hand gesture to indicate the direction.

"This way please."

They left the garage and entered the basement of the house through a heavy double steel door. As it closed behind them automatically, Catherine II watched through the ever-smaller gap how the security guards retreated to a room at the other end of the garage. Apparently, that was their work area, where the office with the surveillance monitors was located. The team had made a capable impression on her. She was able to assess this because during her time as a contract killer, she had learned to judge competence and self-confidence by the way people behaved.

Morton gave her an extensive but not too detail-obsessed tour. Behind the garage, the living area of the basement level began. In addition to the suites for the servants, the basement contained a wellness spa, a fitness room, a massage room, a wine cellar with table and chairs for joint wine tasting, a large lounge, various washrooms, toilets and powder rooms, the laundry room, a storage room for garden tools, and a home cinema for up to fifteen people. All rooms had carpet floor, with the exception of the wellness spa and the washing rooms, which had a beige marble floor, the fitness room, which had a parquet floor, and the wine cellar, which was paved with natural stone tiles.

Due to the hillside location of the property, one could also enter the garden from the basement. Catherine II stepped out into the beautifully lit backyard and stopped to enjoy the view for a moment. She noticed that the exit to the garden was almost exactly in the geometric middle of the house. The lights of Los Angeles sparkled in the distance, and far away she could hear the traffic. But it was still quiet enough to hear the wind softly rustling the tree tops all around. The garden consisted of a large lawn with flower beds and, accessible by a set of stone stairs, a large herb and fruit garden, which nestled down the slope on several levels like small terraces. With its bushes, beds, and trees, it offered additional privacy from the road passing down below.

As a matter of fact, despite its size the whole property was obviously designed with privacy in mind. The trick was that the residents of the house could look _out_ and enjoy the unobstructed view over L.A., but the house and the surrounding garden were so cleverly hidden behind walls, trees and hedges that despite the large glass fronts all around, nobody from the outside could look _into _the house, not even the direct neighbors. The nearest buildings from which one might catch a glimpse, were residential houses more than two miles away, further down in the Los Angeles Basin. Even with the best telescopes, you'd only get a blurry image at best.

From the left to the right, the house stretched over seventy-five yards, leaving almost no space to the neighboring properties. From the lowest point of the fruit and herb garden to the entrance gate of the motor court, the terrain measured almost a hundred yards and had a difference in altitude of a good ten yards between the front gate and the lower end of the herb garden. To her right, Catherine II saw the other end of the path coming from the motor court, and she also noticed that the water wall continued from there right towards where she was standing. A broad flight of stairs to her left led up from the garden level to the terrace on the first floor. She looked further to her left and saw the servants' suites, which had window fronts towards the garden, just like the fitness room and the wellness spa. She couldn't help but think that many people down in L.A. were probably living in smaller and less nice apartments than the servants of this vast luxury mansion.

When she turned around again to re-enter the house, Catherine II noticed that the basement level had by far the largest usable floor space. What was filled here with many rooms and the garage, remained vacant above. Instead, the space was used up by the swimming pool and the large terrace. Thus, the house hid some of its actual size and living space, making it look less ostentatious. She joined Morton on the inside again, and he guided her towards the impressive stairwell on the backside of the house, which was made of wooden steps, polished steel railings and glass walls. Ornamental lamps in the shape of transparent rocks were hanging down between the stairs from the ceiling high above. Catherine II also noticed that there was an elevator opposite of the staircase.

The entire interior of the house was modern, tasteful, luxurious but not pretentious. Obviously, an exceptionally talented interior designer with a sense for beautiful decorations and a penchant for art had been at work here, as the many paintings and sculptures revealed. Despite the large, open spaces, the atmosphere exuded a great deal of coziness, which was also supported by the fact that there were many gas-fired fireplaces that provided warmth - now that even in Southern California the nights were colder than usual.

They reached the first floor and Catherine II immediately noticed that almost all of it was basically a single, large space. There were no doors separating it into different rooms. Instead, everything was divided into sections by shelves and partitions. In contrast to the basement, everything up there was covered with large, matte light grey marble tiles measuring about one square yard each. When the glass walls towards the terrace and the pool were open, the interior was completely exposed and thus, even when someone was resting in one of the lounge areas, they were basically in the fresh air.

There were only three clearly separated areas on the whole floor: Firstly, a central cluster of toilets, powder rooms and washrooms on both sides and around the elevator shaft in the middle. Secondly, there was a professional kitchen with an adjacent pantry. And last but not least, the large study, which had its own bathroom and from which a spiral staircase led up to the second floor. Both the study and the professional kitchen were located in the corners at the backside of the house, without direct access to the garden or the terrace. The rest of the first floor consisted of an entrance area opposite the front door, several lounge areas, a bar, a kitchenette, and a large dining area. The interior designer had left a lot of space between the furniture and the walls, yet it didn't seem empty or cold, also thanks to the several burning fireplaces.

Catherine II walked out onto the huge terrace and considered the big infinity pool, which was also beautifully lit from inside. It was of varying depth and had an integrated hot tub. The whole pool stretched over almost twenty-five yards to the right and had a mirror-inverted L shape that went around the corner of the house. She noticed that you could actually swim towards the edge and look down directly into the motor court and the garden from above. She now realized that not all of the water walls on the property were just decoration or a design gimmick. In fact, they were the overflow of the large infinity pool that had been built right above the garage and its adjacent storage rooms. On the left side of the terrace was a big cabana with two large grills, a bar, and an outside dining area. A door on the far left led to a bathroom, so that nobody would have to go inside to use the toilet while dripping with water from the swimming pool. Garden furniture, including sofas and loungers, were spread all over the vast terrace.

The two went up the stairs to the second level. Here, the floor was covered with dark brown wooden parquet. In the center opposite the stairwell, there was a large opening in the floor with a glass railing that allowed people to look down on the first floor like from a gallery. The rest of the second floor contained the master bedroom with a huge walk-in closet, the master bathrooms, and four suites for guests - three of which had access to a perimeter balcony that went around the whole second floor and offered a view over the terrace, the garden and Los Angeles in the distance. There was also a central lounge area next to the opening in the floor.

Last but not least, Morton led her up to the roof garden, which took up half of the roof space. It could be reached either via a separate small staircase next to the main stairwell, or a spiral staircase from the perimeter balcony. Up there, under the open sky, was another cabana with a grill, an entertainment bar, and a fire pit seating area.

"And all this for just one person?" she finally asked as they walked back down to the second floor again. "Isn't that a bit much?"

"Catherine Weaver is one of the richest women in America," Morton replied. "Compared to what other business leaders of her caliber possess, she's still relatively modest. She has chosen this House specifically because it's tasteful and luxurious, but not overbearingly ostentatious. Believe it or not but despite its size, it's still relatively modest and reserved for Bel Air. There are much larger residences in and around Los Angeles, some reminiscent of European palaces - only with less or even no sense of good taste."

She chuckled.

"Yeah, I can believe that."

"For a billionaire like Catherine Weaver - that is, _you_ \- this is quite modest accommodation. It represents an attitude to life: Show that you're well, but don't flaunt it. Do good instead. Ms Weaver is a well-known benefactress and not known for organizing glittering parties for the upper crust."

"How is it that you're in her… I mean… _my_ service?"

"I'm a remnant from when the real Catherine Weaver was alive. She and her husband Lachlan had hired me because they were British and longed for a little bit of home away from home. After the helicopter crash I soon realized that I was no longer dealing with the real Catherine Weaver. She revealed herself to me as what she was, explained everything about her origins, the future of mankind, and then offered me two options: Either I keep my mouth shut, keep working for her and pretend she's the real Catherine Weaver, or she would unfortunately have to kill me."

"So, you actually didn't have a choice at all."

"No. But I soon realized that this, uh… _machine_ that was posing as a woman, was not really evil incarnate. On the contrary, she worked on a better future for both humanity and her own kind. It didn't take us very long to develop a friendship. I taught her a lot about human behavior and in return, she kept me in her service with a more than generous salary, even though I wasn't actively working as a butler anymore. I never regretted my decision. Ms Weaver had previously informed me of her plans to look for a doppelganger and kind of reactivated me before you arrived."

"Seems like I still have to learn a lot about her. It all comes crashing down on me so suddenly and unprepared. Pretty chaotic."

"You'll manage," he said with a wink. "After all, you're Italian, you should be used to chaotic conditions."

She chuckled. Morton was a nice man, she liked him. He was in his early fifties and had a certain cultivated British manner, which could be interpreted either as arrogance or as dry, witty humor, depending on your point of view. As a European, she appreciated it. She shared his view that having money doesn't automatically mean knowing how to spend it properly, and that many of the rich people in Bel Air, Beverly Hills or Hollywood were not necessarily people of taste and sophistication.

"I guess I'm calling it a day and go to bed now," she said.

"Very well, ma'am. I've been instructed to wake you up at six o'clock, that's when the original Catherine Weaver always got up. Breakfast will be ready by then and you'll meet the rest of the staff: Pierre, the chef, Hank, the gardener, and Liz and Hannah, the maids. On weekdays, I will drive you to work and back again in the evening. The… uh, other Miss Weaver will take care of you during the day, I suppose?"

"She will. Thank you. Good night, Morton."

"Goodnight, Miss Weaver."

The butler bowed slightly and walked away. Catherine II went back to the master suite and checked it out more closely. The bedroom was a large room facing south. Like everywhere else in the house, the glass front could be opened completely to expose the room to the open air and the spectacular view over Los Angeles at night. Apart from the bedside tables, a few plants, a sitting area with a coffee table, an expressionist painting on the wall and a canopy swing, the 540 square foot room was only furnished with a king-sized bed that was placed on the back wall. In front of it stood a big 52-inch flat-screen TV.

Obviously, the master suite was designed under the premise that a married couple would spend their nights there. Therefore there were two separate bathrooms, with two separate walk-in closets - one for the master of the house and one for his wife. Catherine II examined both bathrooms, which had virtually identical furnishings: floors and walls in light grey marble, marble sinks, designer fittings, a large freestanding bathtub with an outside view through a panoramic window, and a glazed shower cubicle with a marble bench that would probably accommodate half a football team.

Catherine II found that the spiral staircase she'd seen in the study below, ended in the master walk-in closet. She decided to make this her own and to her surprise, it was already packed with clothes and shoes. She'd probably need a week just to browse through everything. In a showcase in the middle of the closet, there was also a large collection of jewelry, which could be accessed through drawers. It was just a guess, but she assumed that all this – including the cars in the garage – had originally belonged to the real Catherine Weaver. She had to admit that the whole idea of assuming the identity of another woman had its upsides as well. Living the luxury life of a rich businesswoman was certainly better than being in an Italian prison – or dead. And she also had to admit that being allowed to join this kind of underground organization, which was fighting for the future of humanity, also had its very own appeal.

When she opened the drawers of the bedside tables out of curiosity, she found a loaded and unlocked 9mm Glock with a silencer inside. She smiled. That was a nice gesture. It immediately made her feel safer and was a reminder that her new life as Catherine Weaver could also be dangerous. Gabriella Santini the killer was no more. But it didn't mean that in her new role, she would hesitate to kill if it became necessary. Alison had taken her sangfroid from her, but not her ability to kill. It was still there. And she had a hunch that this particular skill also played a role in choosing her for the job. What better choice than selecting a former contract killer to double for a killer android? Gabriella Santini must have fit the job profile perfectly.

Catherine II undressed and walked into the bathroom to take a shower. Afterwards, she examined herself in the mirror, still not having gotten used to the slender, tall redhead staring back at her. Catherine Weaver was a beautiful woman, much prettier than Gabriella Santini had been. She felt strangely aroused by the whole transformation and made a mental note to buy an assortment of dildos and vibrators as soon as possible, since she had to leave her own collection in Italy. Catherine Weaver had been heterosexual, and she wondered if that meant she was now hetero as well. It would be interesting to explore this new body in detail. She remained naked, got into bed, enjoying the silk sheets on her bare skin, and turned off the lights. With a remote she found on the bedside table, she could close the blackout curtains, but decided to let them open and fall asleep under the soft illumination of the Los Angeles sea of lights.

When she closed her eyes, she recalled the events of the previous two days before her inner eye. The conferences with the department heads had been unspectacular. The android had perfectly selected her management team and organized the company in such a way that it could get along without the boss at the top for a longer time. Each of the managers was able to run their department independently and autonomously. The new, human Catherine as their CEO only had to listen to their analyses and suggestions and then either give her okay - or not. If she was unsure of what to do, she apologized briefly and went to the washing room where the T-1001 gave her appropriate advice.

Some tension had arisen in her when the first briefing with Alistair Norbury and John Henry happened. While John Henry knew exactly who she really was, Norbury had not yet been informed. But she had passed the test with flying colors, the head of the Babylon Labs had not suspected anything. Only afterwards had he been let in on it and had reacted astonished and surprised, but quickly accepted the new situation when the real Catherine explained to him that he would continue to report exclusively to her. The new, human Catherine wouldn't have access to the Babylon Labs.

John Henry was an enigma to her. Obviously, he was using a cyborg body from the future and experienced the world through it, but the body didn't have a chip. Instead, John Henry was an artificial intelligence created in the present by the team of the Babylon Labs. The body he used, was connected to his mainframe down in the sub levels of the Zeira Corp building via a wireless connection – so he was some kind of remote-controlled doll. However, that didn't show at all, and apparently the connection was so stable that he could theoretically operate worldwide - if his body hadn't been modeled after a mass murderer named George Laszlo, who'd been killed by the FBI fifteen months ago. For that reason he couldn't leave the Babylon Labs.

However, as Alistair Norbury and John Henry pointed out in their jointly presented report, this would soon come to an end. They were on the verge of a breakthrough that would allow John Henry's consciousness to be transferred to a cyborg chip, with the result that this chip could be inserted into any Triple-Eight body. John Henry would then not only be able to move completely autonomously and independently, but he would also remain connected to his mainframe in order to continue to monitor all worldwide data streams from there.

Catherine II didn't fully understand what the exact difference to his current state was, but it seemed to mean a lot to John Henry to no longer only exist as a consciousness on a – to him at least - technically obsolete computer system. Instead, he'd be able to move through the world like a real cyborg. For this purpose they had acquired the body of a Triple-Eight whose chip had been destroyed recently: a certain Herman Bressmer, who'd apparently been working as a carpenter in Oklahoma City.

Slowly, the new, human Catherine Weaver drifted into sleep, waiting to be woken up once more in her new home, her new life, and her new body after leaving her old self behind in Venice. She didn't know what was coming next, but she knew it surely would be very interesting.

* * *

She'd slept for a few hours when something suddenly woke her up. Catherine II opened her eyes and glanced at the alarm clock. 4:32 in the morning. She turned her head and gasped. There was a man standing next to her bed. A tall, muscular man who was dressed all in black, like a ninja. She tried to reach for the gun in the drawer, but the man overpowered her and pressed his hand over her mouth. She tried to scream but only a low squeaking could be heard.

He lifted her up from the bed. She struggled, but it was in vain. This new body was much less well trained than her old one, it lacked physical power, stamina, and agility, otherwise she might have been able to free herself. She did her best to try and beat the man and was able to ram her elbow into his side, causing him to groan loudly. But it didn't help, he was carrying her across the room towards the balcony. The sliding glass doors were open, and she felt a cool breeze on her naked skin. Who'd opened them? Was that what had woken her up, the breeze, caused by the open glass wall?

The man quickly carried her outside and before she could do anything, Catherine II was thrown over the glass railing of the balcony. For a split second, she felt the air rush past her, then her body hit the stone ground below. She felt her bones break and heard a nasty crack in her skull and neck that told her both were broken. Then everything around her went dark.

**-0-**

**Saturday, January 24th, 2009 – 02:05 p.m.**

**The Adriatic Sea**

The _Rising Star_ sailed the Adriatic Sea in southeasterly direction. They'd already passed the same region when they went to Venice, so the yacht was going at its full speed. Everyone felt the outside temperature slowly rise again. After lunch, most of them had gathered in the large salon to have a coffee. Savannah and Allie went over to John and his three wives.

"John, can we have a talk?" Savannah asked.

"In private," Allie added.

John looked at Alison, Cameron, and Emily, not exactly surprised. The three smiled at him in a _"See? Told you"_ manner.

"Okay," John then said. "Our suite or yours?"

"Ours."

They got up and then the three walked out of the salon.

"Where are they going?" Sarah asked with a frown.

"They're going to have a talk," Cameron replied.

"Alone, without you?"

"Yes," Emily answered.

"Not another drama, I hope?"

"No, Mom," Alison said. "Just finishing solving the old one."

"You're talking in riddles."

"Yeah, John often says that, too. I'm trying to improve, though."

"Fine, keep your secrets. As long as it doesn't turn into another nightly shouting fit, I don't care."

"I don't think that will happen anymore."

Sarah looked at Alison.

"You're not going to tell me what's going on, are you?"

"Sorry, mom, it's a promise John made and which we honor."

Sarah's cellphone rang. It was Catherine's number.

"Up late again?" she asked upon taking the call.

"_Actually, I'm not in my office right now," _Catherine replied,_ "as a matter of fact, I'm not even in Los Angeles." _

"All right, so I suppose the 'operation doppelganger' has been a success so far?"

"_It has. My new double fits in better than I expected."_

"She must be if you leave her alone already."

_"Can't be helped, I have urgent matters to resolve. John Henry will assist her in my absence."_

"Do I want to know why you're absent and what you're planning to do?"

"_Probably not. "_

"I see."

"_But you can do me a favor. Your next stop will be Crete, right?"_

"Yes, we'll be arriving there tomorrow evening. What can we do for you?"

"_I'd like to discuss that with the whole team. Is John with you? I couldn't reach him on the phone. Savannah also didn't answer my call."_

"Uh… they're currently busy talking about… things. I suppose they've turned their phones off. Should I get them?"

"_No, it's not that urgent. But we should set up a video conference for later. How about five o'clock?"_

"Okay, I'll arrange for that."

"_Thank you." _

The call ended.

"I wonder what she's up to," Alison said.

"You have heard her?"

"Of course, your phone was only a meter away, my hearing…"

"All right, all right, I get it," Sarah replied and sighed. "She's probably going after those _51 Society_ folks. I just hope it doesn't end in one of her bloodbaths."

"I don't believe that's her intention. But if it does, at least no one will suspect her. She has a perfect alibi now because of her new double."

"Yes, I have to admit the whole thing was an amazingly clever move. I only hope that Gabriella doesn't regret it one day. Catherine is virtually indestructible, but _she_ is not. I hope she's aware of the risk and the fact that she could become cannon fodder."

"Don't worry, I made sure she understands the risks. And I did what I could to protect her."

Sarah frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"My nanobots are still active inside her. I didn't zap her before she left."

"Oh no… does that mean she'll also turn into a horny nudist now?"

"No, that problem has been fixed with Future Alison's upgrade. The nanobots will now only keep her healthy and repair most injuries very quickly."

"You mean like when Ken Olsen shot at me in the headquarters of _The Cell_? Or when we all got shot by Cameron to fool those Grays?"

"Yes… only now they work much quicker. By now, they should have multiplied to at least ten times their original number and spread all over her body. Healing now happens almost instantly to minimize the risk of brain damage from oxygen deprivation."

**-0-**

**Los Angeles**

Catherine II opened her eyes. She was cold.

Is this what it felt like to be dead?

She lifted her hand and held it in front of her face, flexing her fingers. Then she turned her head and noticed that she lay on a stone floor of the terrace next to the pool.

She sat up and moved her limbs. Nothing was broken, there was no pain. She didn't even feel sore. How was that possible? She distinctly remembered being thrown off the balcony by that hooded hulk of a man, landing hard on the ground. She remembered the noise her bones made when they broke, and her neck, and her head. Looking around on the lit terrace, she noticed blood stains. Was that hers? She felt her body and her head. Her hair was wet with blood in one spot. but there were no wounds. What the hell?

An engine started, the sound came from the front of the house. Was that the attacker? Quickly, she jumped up and ran along the terrace until she overlooked the motor court. A black van was leaving the property through the open gate. She jumped down, rolled off like a parachutist and ran after the departing vehicle. But when she entered the street, she could only see how the van's red rear lights disappeared around the corner. She stopped and beat the air with her fist.

"Fuck!"

**-0-**

In Savannah and Allie's suite on the _Rising Star_, John sat down opposite of the two women.

"Well?" he asked. "What's up?"

"John," Allie began, "are you satisfied with our behavior lately?"

"What? Oh… um… yeah, sure… I have nothing to complain about."

"We kept our distance," Savannah added, "just like you asked."

"Yeah… but listen, we need to talk about that."

"Oh?" both women asked simultaneously.

"To be honest, I'm not satisfied with the situation," John explained. "This somehow feels like going from one extreme to another. And I can't imagine you're happy with it either."

Allie and Savannah looked at each other.

"You're right, we aren't," Allie then agreed.

"But it's what you wanted, isn't it?" Savannah asked.

"No, this is actually not what I wanted. I never wanted you to distance yourselves from me like that… from us."

Savannah looked at him with a slightly confused face.

"But being intimate without being lovers didn't work out for us."

"True… but exchanging one painful status quo for another one doesn't work either. I wanted to talk with you because I hoped you might have an idea how to solve this dilemma. You beat me to it."

"Looks like we all had the same thought," Savannah said with a smile.

"Okay then, John… what do you want to suggest?" Allie asked.

"Frankly… I haven't really thought about it yet.. I'm kinda lost because I don't wanna hurt you, but it seems that no matter what I do, I end up doing it anyway. It bothers me a great deal."

The two women looked down.

"The truth is," Allie said in a low voice, "that we miss being with you."

"Yeah, we miss being with you a lot," Savannah agreed.

John sighed.

"Nobody is forcing you to stay away from us. You're welcome to join us whenever you want.."

"That won't work, and you know it," Allie replied. "It's a bad compromise that in the end only makes it more painful for everyone."

"We truly love you," Savannah added, "there's nothing we can do about it. But we know you don't love us the same way. We understand that this won't change anytime soon – if ever."

"I'm glad you understand that. But what's your point?"

"Savannah and I came up with an idea. Something to ease our pain and help you not feel guilty."

"Is that why you hesitated to leave our suite last night after the meeting ended?"

"Yes," Savannah confirmed. "But we felt it wasn't the right moment. Besides, we wanted to discuss it with you alone first."

"All right, I'm all ears."

Savannah cleared her throat. Apparently, she was nervous.

"Obviously," she said, "we need to change the way we view each other. We need to redefine our relationship."

John frowned.

"Okay, I can agree to that but I'm not sure what you're on about."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but your hesitation about having sex with us is because you don't want to do what Future John did."

"Correct," John said nodding, "the candidate receives ten points."

"But there is also a certain desire on your side to… be intimate with us, right?" Allie asked.

John smiled.

"I love you, you know that. Not the way you love me but… Anyway, yes… you are two extremely attractive, sexy women."

"Be honest, John," Savannah said, "have you ever fantasized about having sex with us?"

"I… uh…"

"You need to tell us the truth," Allie insisted. "Because our idea stands or falls with you desiring us or not."

John wondered what they were getting at. Well, at least they could clear the air between them and that included being honest with them. Besides, he couldn't deny he had a boner from just looking at their naked bodies.

"All right, fine… yes, I've had some fantasies about you, about us, and more than once I was tempted to just give in to you. I'm a man, I can't help it. Satisfied now?"

"But you didn't want to give in to temptation because you couldn't live with yourself if you only used us for your own satisfaction… without loving us the same way we love you, right?"

"Something like that, yes."

"So… what if we devote ourselves to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"We _want_ to be used by you." Allie clarified.

"We want to be your playthings," Savannah added. "Your sex slaves, call it what you want."

John gaped at them.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked, suspecting a prank. "Is there a camera hidden here somewhere?"

"No, John, we're dead serious," Savannah assured. "When we become your slaves, we will give ourselves to you completely. There will be no more reason for you to feel bad about using us for your own desires, for your pleasure. Because we'd draw _our_ pleasure from serving you, pleasing you."

"And it's definitely something we would have never done with Future John," Allie added.

"That's… ridiculous. Crazy… completely out of the question. I would never…"

"Hear us out, please," Allie besieged him. "Because we think it's the only solution."

John took a deep breath.

"Okay, go on. Humor me."

"You're doing it with Alison, Cam and Emily already," Savannah pointed out. "You're playing master and slaves with them, you even named them Cunt One, Two and Three."

"That's just role-playing! A sexual fantasy! It's not serious! It's about mutual trust, and…"

"Call it how you want, John," Savannah interrupted him, "but the bottom line is, you're the dominant one, and they are subservient. They will do anything for you, no matter if you're alone in your bedroom or not. You command them, and they obey. You are their master, they are your slaves. They love to give you power over them and you love having and using that power, admit it."

"I… don't know what to say. I don't like where this is going…"

"We want to be Cunt Four and Cunt Five!" Allie stated.

"What? You gotta be kidding me!"

"Only in private, at least for now," Savannah specified. "As soon as we're alone with you and ACE, we want you to become our Master and we want to become your obedient, devoted slaves. Allie and I have talked a lot about it in the past weeks and the idea grew on us. Actually, we have talked about it ever since we learned of your role-playing."

"Out of the question!"

"Why not?" Allie asked. "It would solve your dilemma!"

"Maybe... but no. Not like this!"

"When you talked to me at the stern that night after we left Long Beach, you said that Savannah and I must draw our own consequences. Well, we've done that, and our consequence is that the only way we're going to remain with you, is as your obedient subs. Now it's up to you to decide if you want to accept this consequence... or not."

"In other words: sink or swim. You're putting a gun to my head."

"But can you really object to it?" Savannah asked. "Do you have a real reason for refusing us? I mean, you want it too, don't you? And why wouldn't you?"

"Because… because…"

John was thinking hard of a reason, but the truth was, he couldn't come up with one. They had cornered him. Anything he could say against it would immediately be crushed with the argument that he had no problem doing it with his three wives. He simply didn't have the moral high ground to seriously argue against it. If he kept trying, they'd rightfully accuse him of having double standards. Besides, the conversation did have an arousing effect on him and they probably knew it.

"They are my wives," he finally said stubbornly because he couldn't think of anything else to say. "And you are not."

"Oh, come on, John. Yes, in your own little world, they may be your wives. But you're not married to them. Not like Sarah and Charley, Derek and Jesse, or Catherine and Isaak."

"That's not the point and you know it!"

"We all know they wouldn't have a problem with such an arrangement, don't we? They can't be jealous of us. And we can't be jealous of them. There'd be no losers, only winners. And the biggest winner would be you."

"And quite honestly, no one on board would object to us being your fourth and fifth. We've been by your side almost from the moment we arrived here in this time. We've lived together, shared the bed together, been intimate. Everyone knows that. Even your mother would probably just shrug it off if we did the final step."

"She wouldn't have shrugged it off six months ago! It's the changes in her, in everyone, that made it so easy to accept such things."

"Would you prefer to have the old Sarah back then?" Allie asked with a sly smile. "The grim, angry, uptight, bad-tempered Sarah who cannot accept that her own son has fallen for a cyborg?"

John sighed.

"No. I don't want her back. I like my mom the way she is now."

"See?" Savannah asked. "Everything and everyone has changed. The moral boundaries have shifted. Different rules apply to us now. And by those rules, we can be your slaves, and you can have five women."

"Only because of Alison's nanobots!"

"Does it matter? Like everyone else, you like what we've become, admit it. You enjoy life as it turned out for you. To submit ourselves to you would be the logical consequence of everything that has happened to us so far. It will make us happy, John, and if you're honest with yourself, it will make you happy, too."

John stood up.

"I… I better leave. This is ridiculous."

"Wait!" both said and grabbed his arms.

"At least give us a chance, John," Savannah begged. "Three days... or rather nights to try it out. If it doesn't work out, we forget about it and return to keeping our distance."

"Oh, great… no pressure, right?"

"Please consider it, John," Allie urged him. "We're really serious about this. It would solve our problems. We'd get what we long for, and you wouldn't have to feel guilty or bad about it. "

He took a deep breath.

"I, uh… have to think about it," he then said, "and, um… discuss it with my wives."

"Of course, take your time. It doesn't have to start right away. Think it over."

John nodded and without saying another word, left their suite.

"Phew," Allie said when he was gone, "that was intense."

"But it's out now. His mind will start revolving around the idea and he'll find that he likes it. He's a leader, being dominant is his nature."

"I hope you're right, Savannah… because the alternative would mean to move out of the loft as soon as we return home. I don't think I couldn't stand these half-assed arrangements for much longer."

**-0-**

**Los Angeles**

Catherine II stood in the middle of the street and expressed her frustration with some strong Italian curses when suddenly, she heard a female voice coming from behind her.

"Wow, lady… you better put something on before someone sees you."

She whirled around. It was a jogger, a young African-American woman who'd stopped and held on to a lamppost with her right hand while she stretched her left leg with the other.

"Were you here a moment ago already?" Catherine II asked, ignoring her remark.

"Yeah… why?"

"Have you seen the van that turned around the corner a moment ago?"

"Sure."

"Did you happen to see the license plate?"

"Seen… yes… memorized… no. You realize you're naked, right?"

"I, uh… had to get up rather suddenly."

"You don't say... wait, do you live here?"

"Uh… yeah… moved in today."

"Oh… so you're my new next door neighbor. I heard you cursing in Italian, but you have a Scottish accent."

"Heh, yes… cursing in Italian is much more relieving."

The woman grinned.

"I know what you mean. Are you living here alone?"

"Yes, my, uh… husband and my daughter are currently staying in our house in Malibu. Long story."

"I see. Well, I think you should definitely put on some clothes now or I could get blind."

"Of course. I wouldn't want to be caught like this by some stranger, right?"

The two women chuckled.

"No… you definitely wouldn't. The gossip would be unbelievable. Bel Air… you would think people are sophisticated here but…"

Suddenly, there was a loud bang, coming from further down the road, followed by several car alarms going off.

"What the hell was that?" Catherine II asked.

"I don't know. Sounded like an explosion."

"I'm gonna get dressed."

Quickly, Catherine II ran inside the house again. She now noticed that the garage door was open and that somebody had taken out all the security guards. They were alive, but unconscious. Probably some kind of sedative. Whoever the intruder had been, he was definitely a professional.  
She ran up towards her bedroom, slipped into a pair of boxer shorts, put on a tee shirt and a pair of sneakers, then ran back towards the front gate, where her new neighbor was still waiting.

"Wow, that was quick," she remarked.

"I wanna see what happened down there before the police arrive."

"Curious and adventurous, huh? Okay, I know a short cut. Follow me."

The African-American woman led her down the slope between two properties, a very narrow and steep path that saved them at least two hundred yards on the way down. They reached the street below and after a sharp right turn saw what had had happened. The van the burglar had escaped in had crashed into a lamppost and was covered in flames. A few people had already left their houses and, dressed in pajamas and bathrobes, looked at the burning vehicle.

"Wow," the African-American woman said. "Look at that. I thought exploding cars were a movie cliché."

"They are," Catherine II replied and carefully walked closer towards the burning van, stopping when the heat became too intense.

The driver was still in his seat, engulfed in flames and quickly burning to a crisp. She'd seen such incidents before. In fact, she'd staged them herself in order to kill her targets. Somebody had planted explosives under the van and remotely detonated them. So much for leaving no witnesses. From a distance, the howling of police car sirens reached their ears.

"We should get the hell out of here," Catherine II said.

"Shouldn't we wait until the police arrive?"

"No, we shouldn't be seen here. Let's go back."

Reluctantly, her new neighbor followed Catherine II. A few minutes later, they arrived back at the house.

"That's the most rad thing I ever experienced," the woman said. "Are you sure we shouldn't talk to the police?"

"And tell them what? That we heard the explosion and came running down the hill? They'll have better witnesses. We saw nothing."

"But it was the van that drove off from your yard, wasn't it? Don't think I'm stupid."

"Okay, listen, the driver was a burglar who tried to kill me. I barely survived. He got away… and somebody obviously decided he better shouldn't live to tell his tale."

"Wow… you should definitely talk to the police then!"

"No… it's better I don't, believe me. Long story… can't tell you, sorry."

The woman nodded.

"Fair enough. After all, we just met. It'll be our little secret. But if I may give you some advice, with a house like this, you should invest in a security team."

Catherine II smirked.

"I have a security team... but they were taken out."

"What? You're kidding me."

"Nope."

"That's some serious shit, girl… are you in some kind of trouble with the mafia or stuff like that?"

Catherine II had to laugh out loud.

"Yeah, something like that. But don't worry, they wouldn't follow me here."

"What?"

"Never mind. just kidding. I only know that I woke up, saw a hooded man, and before I could react, he grabbed me and threw me over the railing of the balcony. I, um… ended up lying next to the pool. The, uh... outdoor sofa cushioned the fall. The burglar fled and I went after him. That's why I wasn't dressed. Sleeping in the nude, you know..."

"Shiiiit…"

"Can you promise me not to tell anyone about this?"

The woman cocked her head.

"Okay, under one condition."

"What condition."

"Does your house come with a kitchen?"

"Two kitchens even. A kitchenette and a professional chef's kitchen."

"Do you have an espresso machine?"

"One of the best."

"I could be persuaded to remain silent for a hot cup of steaming, strong Italian coffee."

Catherine II smiled.

"You're talking to the right person, I used to work as a barista for a short period of time."

The woman grinned.

"Excellent. Won't you invite me in then… neighbor? I'm dying to get to know you better and learn all about you."

Catherine II chuckled. She liked that woman, she was straight forward and made a trustworthy impression on her. And there was something about her… something inexplainable that made her like her. Maybe she'd just found her first friend in America.

"Of course, come on in. by the way, my name is Catherine Weaver."

She stretched out her hand and the African American woman shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Catherine. I'm Kimberly Jackson."

**-0-**

**_Author's notes:_**

**_\- I consider this chapter a transitional one, a link of some kind between story lines, if you want ;-)  
_**

**_\- About Savannah and Allie: Something had to be done to put her relationship with John on a new basis or, as Savannah put it, to redefine it. I'm aware that it might be controversial. Some may think it's great, others might reject the idea. But nevertheless, I decided that it's the path they will take. Besides... it's not like you couldn't have seen it coming, right? ;-)_**


	20. Crete

**_CHAPTER 20: "CRETE"_**

* * *

**Saturday, January 24th, 2009 – 04:55 a.m.**

**Los Angeles**

While Catherine II prepared a strong espresso for the both of them, Kimberly Jackson sat on a bar stool at the kitchen island and looked around.

"Your house is bigger than mine… I mean, a _lot_ bigger. It's freaking huge!"

"Yeah, well… one has to get used to it, I suppose. Do you want milk and sugar, Kimberly?"

The African American woman smirked.

"I'll take my coffee black."

Catherine II chuckled.

"Of course."

"And call me Kim, please. All my friends call me Kim."

"Do you have many friends?"

"Not as many as I'd like to have. You?"

"Same."

"Well, then maybe we can add each other to our friends list."

Catherine II smiled.

"Sure, why not?"

She liked that woman, although she didn't know why. There was something about Kimberly Jackson that captivated her, a kind of invisible attraction. She wanted to tell her everything, confide in her. She could barely control herself enough not to tell Kim her whole, real life story.

"So… you've got to help me, Catherine. I think I've heard your name before, but…"

"I'm the CEO of Zeira Corp."

"Right! Oh wow… now I remember. You just married that famous Hollywood producer, um… Isaak Sirko, right?"

"I did."

"So, how come he's not here with you?"

"Different working schedules. I usually work until late at night, and the drive from my office takes only twenty minutes to this place while it's more than an hour to Malibu. Besides, Isaak prefers the ocean while I prefer the hills. Apart from that, Isaak hardly ever works anymore, except on projects that are really close to his heart. Otherwise he's more or less a pensioner."

"I see, but... being separated seems a little bit off for newly-weds. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to pry or anything."

"It's okay, I understand. But Isaak and I have been together for almost a year already before we told anyone about it. The wedding was merely a formality, well-controlled fodder for the yellow press. We create our own spaces. Both Isaak and I are persons who can't be too close for long."

"Sounds like a reasonable accommodation... But you also mentioned a daughter?"

"Yes, Savannah. She's my daughter from my first marriage. She also prefers Malibu, and she has friends there. I don't have enough time for her during the week anyway. We have a very capable nanny."

"But it's the weekend now."

"Yes… and I just moved in here. Busy with getting settled in, gonna do that on my own. As I said, we respect each other's private spaces. Besides, Isaak will take Savannah to Disneyland today and I hate amusement parks."

"I see. I'm not a huge fan either. Roller coasters mess up my system, so to speak."

Catherine II laughed.

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

She'd been watching Kim's reaction to her made-up story carefully, but she seemed to have bought it. After all, it was normal to be less concerned about your children in higher circles, especially when you had a job that tied you to your company almost around the clock. That's what nannies were for. No one in high society would find that kind of thinking unusual. She handed Kim the cup of espresso.

"Thank you, I so need that right now."

She sipped on her coffee, then grimaced.

"Ouch!"

"Too hot?"

"A little, but it's okay, I'll wait a few more moments. So… you're, like, really loaded, huh? I mean… really, really loaded? I know the price for this property, you know... it was listed for way over a hundred million bucks..."

"If you want to insinuate that both Isaak and I are filthy fucking rich, then that's a yes."

Kim laughed out loud, and Catherine II joined in.

"How about you? You can't exactly struggle financially in order to live here either, can you?"

"Not really, no. But I play in a much smaller league. Maybe someday I'll get to your level if I'm lucky. I moved here from the East Coast a month ago. Got a start-up in the Valley. I do research in particle physics. You know, fusion reactors and stuff."

"Wow, that sounds very high tech."

"It is, we're working on the borderline of what is known to science. But we're just at the beginning. I only have half a dozen employees. Thankfully, I inherited some money from my parents. My father owned a restaurant chain before they were killed."

"Killed? Oh my God, what happened?"

"Boat accident. Their yacht capsized in a storm off the coast of Long Island."

"I'm sorry..."

"It's all right. I sold the restaurants and started my own company after college. Thank God my father had already bought the house here in Bel Air. The rest of the heritage will last for at least a year. Until then, I have to have made a breakthrough – or found somebody who sponsors me."

Catherine II frowned. It sounded a bit off that a young woman with a startup company would rather keep a house that was worth tens of millions of dollars than sell it and use the money for her company. On the other hand, she didn't really know how such things were handled, and if Kim failed with her business, she'd at least have the house as a reserve. After all, land prices would probably quickly rise again after the financial crisis.

"Well, I owe you one for not talking to anyone about what happened here tonight. If you need financial support, just ask. I mean it."

"Thanks. For now, though, I'm going to try on my own. But it's nice to know I'm having that option."

"Sure. Anytime. I'm not going anywhere."

"Say, don't you want to check on your security guards now?"

Catherine II suddenly looked thoughtful.

"Maybe I should. I checked their pulses when we entered the house, and they aren't dead, just unconscious. I give them another 10 minutes. If they haven't come around until then, I'll try a bucket of water."

Kim laughed.

"I'd like to see that."

"It's strange, though. The attacker apparently intended to make my death look like an accident. Why else would he drag me to the balcony and throw me over the rail? But if that's the case, there's no point in stunning the guards. Because then everyone knows it was no accident, but an assassination attempt. If I'd been the killer, I would have come over the roof, sneaking my way to the master bedroom, not coming through the front door. And something else is strange: Why was the gate open and why did he park his van in my motor court?"

"I have no idea. But you're right, it seems strange. Maybe the security guards can tell you something?"

"Maybe… I better go check on them now. Just make yourself at home while I'm gone."

Kim smiled and looked after Catherine as she went down the stairs towards the basement level. Of course, she could have told her that it was actually she who'd taken out the guards and opened the gate, using her abilities to make the attacker drive into the motor court and not wonder about the unconscious men in the garage. She could have also told her that it was she who'd planted the bomb under the van while the killer was busy throwing Catherine over the balcony. The things you did to get in touch with someone, making it look as if it were a coincidence…

She also could have told her that it was part of her mission to watch over Catherine II without anyone noticing or knowing. It wasn't a significant part of her mission but also not an unimportant one. After all, it was no coincidence that she had bought the house next door. The other Future Alison had chosen it with Catherine's doppelganger in mind.

But of course she couldn't tell Catherine II anything about that. She couldn't reveal to her that she was in fact Alison, who'd traveled back in time from the year 2265 to do a job here under her new alias Kimberly Jackson. Telling that anyone would probably cause a disaster. But that didn't exclude becoming friends with Catherine Weaver's human doppelganger. After all, the woman would quickly begin to feel trapped and lonely in her new role. She needed a friend she could confide in, a friend like Kim who would help her deal with the new situation.

However, she wasn't to know what had really happened here tonight, it had to remain covered up. The only one who was informed, was John Henry. Kim had contacted him before. He knew about the background of the assassination attempt, so that he could inform the real Catherine, who in turn would inform John and the rest of the team before taking the necessary actions. No one would question where John Henry got all the detailed information about the members of the _51 Society_ from. By now, they simply assumed he could easily find out such things and none of them would ever consider that the information had been actually fed to him by Future Alison.

Catherine II returned a few moments later, looking confused.

"What's wrong, Cath?"

"It's strange," she said, "they were awake and sat at their work stations like normal, remembering nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. They behave as if nothing happened, as if there was no gap in time where they were unconscious. Jenkins even asked me if I had a bad dream when I told them about the intruder. I wonder what kind of drug the killer could have been using on them."

"Probably some kind of psycho drug. There's some serious shit circulating, I tell you."

Catherine II pulled out her cellphone.

"I have to inform somebody about what has happened. Excuse me for a moment."

"Of course."

And with that, Catherine II left the kitchen area and dialed the real Catherine Weaver's number.

**-0-**

**Saturday, January 24th, 2009 – 02:33 p.m.**

**The Adriatic Sea**

John returned to his suite in a kind of numb state after talking to Alison and Allie. His mind was racing around the fact that they proposed to become his slaves, his sexual playthings even. Were they really serious with it? And if yes, how far would they go? And would he, John, be okay with it? He didn't even notice that Alison, Cameron, and Emily had been anxiously awaiting him and now surrounded him.

"How did it go?" Cameron asked.

"What did they say?" Emily added.

"Huh?" John asked, looking up.

"Oh boy," Alison stated, "you're completely beside you. Here, let me help."

"What?"

She touched his arm. Immediately, his mind was clearing.

"Oh… uh, thanks, that feels good."

"Just a little pick-me-up," she replied with a loving smile. "Telling from your reaction, it seems like it didn't go so well with Savannah and Allie, though."

"I wouldn't say it went badly..."

"But...?"

"But I wouldn't say it went well, either."

He gave them a summary of the conversation. Afterwards, there was a moment of silence.

"Say something, please."

"It comes unexpected," Cameron stated.

"Yes, it's a surprise," Alison agreed.

"But it's also a logical conclusion," Emily said.

"What? Logical? How can you…"

"Relax, John. It is logical when you consider the other options. A love affair is out of the question because you don't love them in such a way. Nor is splitting up an option, that would be the worst of all alternatives."

"I have to agree with Emily," Cameron stated, "they made you an offer that solves all your problems."

"By submitting to me? By becoming my slaves? By giving themselves to me? By sacrificing their freedom?"

"Hey, if it works for us, it can also work for them."

"That's different."

"How so?"

"Because you… have a natural desire to serve. You said it yourself."

"That is correct, John," Cameron agreed, "but humans can also have that desire. And it seems the two of them have it."

"You mean they're submissive?"

"At least as far as you are concerned. I wouldn't be so sure about other people."

"Yeah, Marcus could tell a tale about that," Emily agreed. "They more or less treated him like their personal sex toy."

"Which he seemed to enjoy," Alison added.

John took a deep breath.

"And now they want to become _my_ personal sex toys? I... I must admit I'm at my wit's end. What should I do?"

"Well, what do you want?" Cameron asked. "What do you really want? Would you want them to be your subs, your slaves, your sexual playthings?"

"I… I have to admit the thought has crossed my mind," John admitted. "I, uh... even had some erotic dreams in that direction. And it certainly has appeal. But could it work? I mean, I wouldn't want them to be humble slaves all the time. That would be really awkward."

"Of course they wouldn't only be humble slaves," Emily replied. "We're not your humbles slaves all the time as well, only when we all feel like it. We know that you don't want to have yes-sayers and mindless sex dolls that constantly cling on your coat-tails. You want free-thinking, independent partners with their own ideas and opinions."

"Yes! Yes, that's what I want. But do _they_ understand that? Because if I understood them correctly, then they want to be my slaves all the time, not just in bed."

Alison put her hands on his cheeks and looked him deeply in the eyes.

"John, we are your slaves all the time. You own us. We're not always acting accordingly, but we're yours. We are and will always be your property. It's how we want it, and you know it. But that doesn't mean we never disagree with you, that we follow all of your orders blindly. You know that."

"I... guess... yeah, I know that. I mean, yes, I know you consider yourself my property, even though I never wanted that."

"But you enjoy it, nevertheless, admit it."

"I... okay, yes. I do enjoy it..."

Alison smiled.

"Then why not give Alison and Allie the same?"

Before he could reply, she kissed him on the mouth, long and lovingly.

"We love you," Cameron said softly. "And we love what we have become with you, what we are with you."

"Yes," Emily agreed. "Savannah and Allie have been living with us in the loft, they observed how well our arrangement works for us, how happy we are with it. And now they'd like to have a similar agreement."

"I'm sure they don't want to become mindless drones or puppets," Cameron added. "No more than _we_ are your mindless drones and puppets."

John broke the kiss with Alison. He had to admit it was right what he had needed. And they actually talked sense. However, he still wasn't fully convinced.

"All right, okay… that's that. But can it work out? Me and five women? God, I'd feel like one of those sultans of old… it just doesn't seem right that I have so many… what if I can't live up to everyone's expectations?"

"Seriously, John?" Alison asked. "That's what you're worried about? In case you haven't noticed yet, but everyone on the team, and especially Allie and Savannah, trust you blindly. They'd go to hell and back for you. You always forget that they not only know you as you are now, but also as you will, or at least might become, one day."

"I don't want to become..."

"Yes, yes, yes, we all know that," Emily interrupted him. "You don't want to become like Future John. But we know about _two_ Future Johns from _two_ timelines by now, both being completely different from each other, both having distinct roads of life. You have yet another road of life, John. and you will grow up to become yet another Future John if you like it or not. You won't stay the same. But we all love you, and we all know that whoever you'll become, we'll always remain by your side."

"You're the last person who should have any self-doubts, John," Cameron added with a smile. "And you know it."

"Then... should I agreed to their proposal?"

"They suggested a trial period," said Emily, "three days and nights. If it works out, great. If it doesn't work, well... at least you've tried, and achieved certainty. But you have more to lose by rejecting their proposal, to be honest."

"What would mom say? She already had trouble accepting me having three women. Heck, she gave me hell already back in the Burbank house when there were suddenly two Camerons. But in the end, she accepted Alison and Emily, because you were basically all Cameron and it would have been cruel turning one of you down... But two more women, human ones at that?"

"Then talk to her," Alison recommended, "I'm sure she will be honest and frank with you."

"She just wants everyone to be happy," Cameron added, "and if Savannah and Allie have to join us to be happy, she'll have no objections. Not that it would matter what she says or thinks… It's _our_ lives, John, _our_ decisions."

"What about the others? I can already hear Derek ranting about _'John and his growing harem'_."

"Why should it bother you what he says?" Alison asked. "His rants about our relationship being '_unnatural'_ haven't bothered you before, so it shouldn't bother you now, when Savannah and Allie join the club. We all know that his teasing and ranting is an outlet for him to deal with his own tragic past. If he needs to pick on us for processing his traumatic experiences, then so be it. After all, there's no doubt about his loyalty and integrity - but don't tell him I said that."

John smiled.

"Don't worry, I'll never tell him you said something nice about him. The shock would kill him."

They chuckled.

"But what if they learn about our... special relationship?"

"That we're not only your lovers and wives but also your sex slaves?"

"Yeah... I mean, it's okay with the three of you because you'll never accidentally let anything slip... but Savannah and Allie don't have computers for brains, they're bound to have a slip-up at some point, and we have a flock of nosy friends who'd catch on real quickly."

"So what?" Cameron asked. "It's kinky and sexy. Nobody here on board is going to complain about kinky and sexy, don't you think? And no outsider will ever get to know it, that's for sure. So what if they learn about the true nature of our relationship? What's the worst that could happen? Do you seriously think your reputation could suffer just because you have the ability to bond women more closely to yourself than other men can? If you ask me, it's just a testimonial to your superior leadership skills."

John sighed.

"You probably think I'm looking for excuses, right?"

"And are you?" Emily asked.

He looked at her

"Yeah… I guess I am. But can you at least understand my hesitation?"

The three gathered around him, seeking body contact.

"Yes," said Alison, "of course we understand you. But we will always support you, no matter what you decide to do. You are perfect as a lover, unprecedented as a spouse, and you're a role model as our Master and owner. That won't change when Allie and Savannah join us."

He smiled and kissed them one by one.

"I suppose we should work out some ground rules then. A list of guidelines that will govern our future relationship."

"Yes, Master," Cameron agreed smiling, "but maybe we can do that later?"

And with that, she knelt in front of him and pulled down his pants.

**-0-**

Half an hour later, John and his three wives arrived in the big salon on deck two. They were already expected by the whole team.

"Nice for you to show up," Derek stated.

"Did we miss something?" John asked. "Nothing was scheduled."

"We've been waiting for you," Sarah added. "Have been trying to reach you but nobody took the call. We didn't want to invade your privacy either."

"What?" John asked, then slapped his forehead. "Shit, I've turned my phone off. Yeah, we, uh... had important things to talk about."

Savannah and Allie also entered the salon in that moment. They exchanged quick looks with John. Sarah frowned.

"Indeed, we had a lot to talk about," Savannah stated. "We'd also turned our phones off."

"Care to tell us what these important things were?" Derek asked grumpily.

"They were private," Allie replied shortly.

"I'll tell you later perhaps, mom," John stated quickly, receiving a surprised look from Savannah and Allie. "What's the big emergency? It's not dinner time yet."

Danny turned his laptop around. It showed the image of Catherine Weaver.

"We didn't know a video conference was scheduled," Alison said.

"_It wasn't,"_ Catherine's voice sounded from the speakers of the laptop. _"I tried to reach you earlier but since you were otherwise occupied, I called Sarah and informed her instead."_

"O-kay," John replied. "You wouldn't call for a video conference if something weren't up. So, what's up?"

"_It seems like our friends from the 51 Society are forcing our hand."_

"How so?"

"_Last night an attempt was made on my double's life."_

Everyone looked shocked.

"What?" Sarah asked. "On Gabriella?"

"_Yes."_

"Is she okay?"

"_Yes, thanks to Alison's nanobots. And the killer is dead, probably murdered by his clients, the 51 Society."_

"What? Did they order her being killed?"

"_It would seem so. John Henry has already dug into it and found out that a high-ranking member of the 51 Society, Steven Rogers, had ordered her murder through a guild of professional assassins."_

"Wait, what?" John asked. "A guild of professional assassins? Such a thing exists?"

"_Obviously."_

"Wait," Derek said. "Steven Rogers? Not _the _Steven Rogers?"

"_The one and only."_

"Who's Steven Rogers?" Jesse asked.

Derek looked at her.

"One of the largest arms manufacturers in the United States. Rogers Inc. manufactures specialized explosives for the U.S. Army, as well as grenades and ammunition of all kinds. He's a self-made billionaire, built the company single-handedly after his father left him a gun shop."

_"And now that Jonas Masina is dead, he's the current number two in the 51 Society, behind their leader Mahesh Bokhari. He's also responsible for intelligence gathering."_

"Wait," Sarah said, "Mahesh Bokhari? I've heard that name before."

"Indian steel mogul," John replied. "He was the man who financed Vincent DeVooght's treasure hunt for the _Maria Barrios_. Catherine mentioned it to us when we were in Madeira."

"No wonder they're pissed," Kevin remarked. "Looks like our activities have cut deep into their profits lately. From their point of view, it might even look like a deliberate attack on them."

"_Indeed," _Catherine replied. _"Masina's death was probably the straw that broke the camel's back, and they seem to have declared war on us now – or rather on me. Thankfully, they still don't know who or where you are, and we want to keep it that way. Let them concentrate on me, that keeps you out of the line of fire."_

"I hope you don't plan on killing them all," Sarah said, "This would attract attention we don't want."

"_It was my first impulse to work through the list and kill or ruin every single one of them,"_ Catherine admitted,_ "but it would be too complicated and time-consuming... and John probably wouldn't approve."_

"Damn right, I wouldn't," John confirmed.

"_So, I had to come up with an alternative. If we cannot kill them, we have to intimidate them, which won't be easy. I'm currently on board a scheduled flight to Heraklion on Crete, where you will arrive tomorrow. Thankfully, first class offers enough privacy for this video conference. I'll arrive before you, will do some reconnaissance and then join you after you arrived."_

"What?" Derek asked. "A scheduled flight? But how? The metal detectors…"

Catherine just smiled.

"Shape-shifter," Savannah said with a shrug.

"Right," Derek agreed. "You were able to infiltrate Area 51, so I guess an airport wouldn't represent an obstacle for you."

"_Exactly."_

"But why not using your private jet?"

_"Because it can be traced by them. And I don't want my movements tracked anymore. That probably led Stevens to conclude that I was responsible for Masina's death. If I arrive in Heraklion in my private jet, they'll also find out that my husband's yacht is anchored there, if you catch my drift." _

"And that would lead them directly to us," Charley concluded nodding.

"_Exactly. At some point they might find out about your journey anyway, but we don't need to push their noses into it."_

"Shouldn't we make use of the Colony for this?" Allie asked. "They operate on a worldwide scale and won't be on their radar. Have you talked to Tess? She's still in the States, right?"

"_She is but will leave soon. And yes, the Colony would be an option but not from the start. I'd keep them up our sleeves as our ace. Besides, this is our problem, not theirs. So far, I haven't let anyone in on this except you. And I want to keep it that way – for now."_

"What exactly does that mean?" John asked. "What is your plan?"

_"There's business I have to take care of in Crete. And after that is done, I'll visit Mahesh Bokhari and explain the situation to him - with the appropriate emphasis. I have high hopes that I can negotiate a truth with him."_

"And if it doesn't work?"

_"I'll make him an offer he can't refuse."_

"What offer?" Sarah asked, "Certainly not by threatening them with killing them? We know that such a threat never works."

Catherine smiled.

_"That depends entirely on how you present the threat."_

**-0-**

**_Saturday, January 24th, 2009 – 11:48 p.m._**

**_Day 66 of our journey_**

_I love it when the ship comes to rest at night. Everyone retreats to their suites and either go to sleep or sleep with each other, the only sound being the deep, distant hum of the engines. It helps me sleep, like rain falling on the roof._

_In the video conference with Catherine, it became clear that without knowing it, we have awakened a dragon which we now must strike down, whether we like it or not. It has become necessary because now that it's aware of our existence, it has taken aim at us. I'm pretty sure that the assassination attempt on Catherine's double is just the prelude to an exchange of blows that could possibly end very ugly - if we don't do something about it. Catherine didn't tell us what exactly her plan was, I suppose she'll fill us in tomorrow when she meets with us in Heraklion on Crete. It seems like bad news keeps following us and that every time we kicked over an anthill, the next one is already waiting for us around the corner._

_But there are also good news. We received word from Giulia Silvani that they'll announce the find of Ludovico's treasure in three days. Through her job as a journalist, she'll be the first one to report about the find in her newspaper. That means she can make it look as if her uncle came across the old construction plans by chance, which eventually led to the discovery of the gold chests underneath his palazzo. I wish them all the happiness in the world. If anything goes wrong, they have our phone number. Should they need help, they'll get it. We promised it and we keep our promises._

_John, ACE, Savannah, and Allie don't want to tell anyone yet what they had so urgently to talk about. Speculation is running wild, but there seems to be a growing body of evidence that Allie and Savannah have made John a proposal for the final solution of their relationship problems, which John can now accept or reject. If he rejects it, they'll probably go separate ways in the future and move out of the loft at home, if not out of Los Angeles. Losing the two would be a blow to our team. If John accepts their proposal, though... well, that's the great unknown in the equation. Nobody knows yet what they've offered him, but it seems to bother him. Apparently, it's something he has to wrestle with himself about. I wish I could help him, but the days when I was his most important advisor, are over. On the one hand, I'm glad that he's now surrounded by people who love him as much as I do and can advise him. However, it hurts a little that I, as his mother, am now more or less an outsider. I..._

There was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" Sarah asked, looking behind her on a snoring Charley.

"Mom? It's me. Can I come in?"

"John? Uh… sure, yes. Come in."

The door opened and John entered.

"You haven't visited me in our suite since we started our journey. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

John took a deep breath.

"Can we have a talk in private, mom?"

"Sure."

Sarah stood up from the desk and the two entered the living room. John sat down on the sofa. She closed the door behind them after making sure that Charley was still sleeping, then sat down opposite her son and crossed her legs.

"Should I put something on?" she asked, noticing that he seemed to be transfixed on her.

"What? No… no, it's okay, mom. Sorry, I wasn't staring, just in thought."

Sarah smiled.

"We've come a long way. Half a year ago, this situation would have caused both of us running out of the room screaming."

"Heh... yeah, long way... and we haven't reached the end."

She frowned at him.

"Something's bothering you, I can tell. Must be serious if you come to me with it at this time of night. Couldn't you talk about it with your wives?"

"I've already talked to them, but I want your advice as well."

"Oh? That's a first in how many months? Thirteen?"

"I know, I've been a brat some of the time but I…" he took another deep breath, "how do you feel about the fact that I have three wives?"

Sarah smirked.

"Isn't that a little late to ask your mother?"

"No… don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for your blessing, I just want to know how you feel about it."

She thought for a moment.

"If I'd known about it half a year ago, I would have probably gone ballistic."

"Why? Because having three women is wrong?"

"No, not necessarily. Polygamy is widespread worldwide and in many regions still legal today. If you ask me, monogamy arose less from religious motives than from the simple fact that it's harder to feed two or three women and their children than just one - which, of course, is not a problem in your case."

"Right."

"No, I'd probably have gone crazy over the fact that they're machines, Terminators."

"So… you wouldn't have minded me having three human girls back then?"

"I didn't say that. We all grew up with a fixed set of rules, values, and standards. One rule was that a man can only have one woman and vice versa. I justified to myself that the three, and then the four of you are together because they're basically just one person. Also, I have to admit that my values and norms have changed a lot recently. Outsiders would probably describe us as amoral now, depraved or even a cesspool of sin... but it doesn't bother me."

"Yeah, well… our life has changed a lot in that respect, but at least everyone's still sticking to their partners."

"What are you getting at, John?"

"I've been trying to find out for myself how I feel about having more than one woman. I have listened inside myself and realized that I like it, enjoy it, and no longer just necessarily because they have the same chip, but because I love the diversity."

"Yes, Alison, Cameron and Emily are not the same person anymore. They've changed and developed individually due to their experiences, histories, and their different bodies. I'm struggling to see them as one if I'm honest."

"I guess you're right. I'd be lying to my face if I kept insisting that the three of them are actually still one person divided into three parts. That might have still been the case three months ago, but it isn't anymore. I have three wives, and they're all different from each other."

Sarah frowned at him.

"Are you having doubts whether that is the right way to go for you, John?"

"What? No! No, I don't have any doubts about it at all. But what if… the number of my women would grow even more?"

Sarah cocked her head.

"You're talking about Savannah and Allie."

He nodded and looked down. After a moment, Sarah sighed. She stood up and took place next to him, putting her arm around his shoulder.

"If you want my advice, John, you have to confine in me. Tell me everything."

He looked at her, nodded and told her everything. Afterwards, Sarah was silent for a long moment.

"I didn't know your relationship with ACE was also based on you being their owner, their, uh… master."

"It isn't… well, not for me at least. But they're machines after all, made to serve. They can't switch off that part of their nature, so they channeled it into becoming my love slaves."

"Sounds kind of logical in its own weird way when you look at it like that. But why do Savannah and Allie want to become your love slaves as well? They're not machines."

"Because they can't become my lovers. And since the other, much more painful alternative would be leaving us for living on their own, they came up with the idea that they could submit to me, become my love slaves as well. Second best solution if you want. That way, they can stay close to me, live with us, have sex with me and ACE, and nobody has to feel obligated to do anything about it."

"But you realize it's risky, right? Five women and one man can create its very own dynamics. And what if they find out later that it's not what they want after all?"

John shrugged.

"Then we end it. It's an experiment, I admit it, and it could end in disaster. I'm willing to take the risk, but I wanted your opinion, too."

Sarah smiled. She felt flattered.

"Well... half a year ago, I would have probably asked you if you lost your mind. But a lot happened since then, I came to realize that in love, one is allowed to do anything. If you suppress your feelings, it'll only get worse. Savannah and Allie love you, and nothing is as bad or more painful as unrequited love. Especially when you live closely with each other. So, if that is the way to save your relationship with them, you have to go it."

"Okay but… what will the others think?"

"They will probably gossip, but you'll have to live with it. Ultimately, it's your choice, John, and your choice only. Neither I nor anyone else can forbid you to do it. Either it works or it goes wrong, the consequences will be yours to bear alone. However, the most important thing is that you love each other."

"We do… if not everyone in the same way. But the feelings are strong. Very strong. And so is the desire. Plus, I know I can satisfy them."

Sarah smirked.

"I'd never question your ability to satisfy five women, John. I know that Alison has been improving your anatomy in that regard."

"Heh, yeah… I guess the biggest problem will be to find enough time. Then again, they also have each other, they don't necessarily need me for satisfaction."

"You know that Derek will have a field day when you reveal it, right?"

"Yes, and I am so not looking forward to it."

"But you have to endure it, John, if you really want to go through with it."

"It means a lot to me to have your support, mom."

She kissed him on the forehead.

"You are my son, John, you'll always have my support."

**-0-**

**Sunday, January 25th, 2009 – 10:16 a.m.**

**The Mediterranean**

The Rising Star had left the Adriatic behind and was now heading for the Aegean Sea. The temperature had risen to 25° Celsius outside. John had grabbed a sun lounger and sunbathed on the rear deck near the stern. The crew had opened the swimming pool and Lauren, Jody, Anne, Sydney, their four boyfriends as well as Louise and Olga were enjoying splashing in the refreshing water.

John lay alone and had dozed off a little when he was suddenly by cold drops of water falling onto him.

"Whoa, do you wanna give me a heart attack?" he asked startled.

Louise and Olga giggled, as it was them who'd leaned over him to shake their hair.

"How come you're all alone?" Louise asked and sat down on the lounger to his left.

"I'm not alone, you're with me now."

"Very funny," Olga replied, sitting down to his right. "you know what we mean. Normally, you and your three wives are inseparable."

"That's not true. I often spend some time alone. I like to be on my own once in a while. Also, Catherine sent a list with all members of the 51 Society. ACE are currently busy memorizing everything: their faces, their body measurements, any peculiarities such as birthmarks, their whole families, their companies, all business relationships and friendships, their CVs and also their medical data. Frankly, I wonder how John Henry got all this information so quickly. It's almost ten gigabytes of data. There's stuff in there that's normally not accessible online."

"Like what?" Olga asked.

"Like what skeletons they have in their closets. Dirty laundry. You don't usually get into such a leading position and become so rich without breaking a few rules along the way or making some enemies. But normally it can't be found on the internet, not even by John Henry. I won't complain, though. The information, used correctly, should theoretically be enough to get the dragon off our backs."

"Only theoretically?" Olga asked.

"Yes, because we know that many of the rich and the powerful are unteachable, and the term _'giving in'_ doesn't exist in their vocabulary. Well, we'll see what kind of inside information we can use to pressure them. Some of them might even threaten the existence of their companies."

"I don't know about any of these economy things," Louise remarked.

"Neither do I," Olga admitted.

"All right, let's cut the crap, John. Is it true?"

John frowned and looked up at her.

"Is _what_ true, Louise?"

"Oh, come on… you don't believe that anything here on board can remain a secret for long, right?"

"We know that you had a talk with Savannah and Allie," Olga added, "a talk to solve your relationship issues."

John smiled and closed his eyes again.

"I guess we did."

There was a pause.

"And!?" Louise finally asked. "Come on, don't keep us in suspense."

He looked up at her again.

"What? You just told me that nothing on this ship can remain a secret. So either you know it already, then I don't have to tell you… or you don't know it, then you were clearly wrong with that assessment."

Louise pulled a face, she was visibly disappointed by John's reply.

"You won't get your gossip from me," John added with a smile. "But feel free to find out about it elsewhere. I wish you good luck with that."

Louise huffed and stood up.

"Come on, Olga, let's ask someone else. I'm sure this secrecy won't last long."

John waved after them with a smirk as they left, then closed his eyes again.

**-0-**

**Sunday, January 25th, 2009 – 08:09 p.m.**

**Heraklion, Crete**

The Rising Star arrived at the port of Heraklion in the early evening. Catherine had already been waiting for them and came aboard immediately. After the usual warm welcome, and a dinner together, the whole team had gathered in the large salon.

"His name is Takis Manolakas," Catherine began, pointing at the laptop that showed the face of a good-looking, middle-aged man with black hair and a beard, "and he's the owner of Sanaxos, one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world."

"Let me guess, and he's a member of the _51 Society_?" John asked.

"Correct. His area of expertise is bio technology, or more precisely, he's a specialist in genetic engineering. Manolakas is one of the richest men in Europe and currently staying at his estate here on Crete. He also has a laboratory there which he uses for private research."

"Everyone needs a hobby," Derek remarked.

"It's more than just a hobby," Catherine continued, "He's working on DNA-based treatments there, tailor-made for specific people. He creates drugs that benefit members of his so-called brotherhood in the event of a serious illness, for example cancer or Alzheimer's disease. He's also trying to slow down ageing. Suffice to say, only _those_ will take profit from his research who can afford it. This is not intended for the general population."

"Developing drugs only for the rich?" Charley asked. "What a prick."

"Yes," Danny agreed. "Plus, it also sounds a bit like the alchemists of old who tried to develop an immortality serum."

"It might be just that," Catherine agreed. "Of course, he's still far away from any utilizable results. His research will show success in a few decades at the earliest. However, it is proven by Alison that it can work. Her nanobots can make changes on a genetic level and activate dormant DNA information in a targeted manner."

"But he's not doing any research in that direction, right?" Sarah asked.

"No. At least not yet. But with enough money and persistence, he might eventually choose that path. The ingredients exist today already. Making them usable, though, requires artificial intelligence, as we all know."

"So, it's just a matter of time until people like him are successful with their research?" Jesse asked.

"Of course," Catherine confirmed, "progress cannot be halted. But that is not our concern today."

"Then what is our concern today?" Sarah asked. "You've been very vague so far. And why are you here in the first place? Wouldn't another video conference have been enough to tell us these things? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad for every time you're visiting us, but… isn't that quite an inefficient strategy, flying back and forth between Los Angeles and Europe?"

Catherine smiled.

"I understand your confusion. And I'm happy to explain. As you know, I'm actually on my way to New Delhi to pay Mahesh Bokhari a visit. However, when I learned about Manolakas' lab here, I spontaneously decided to make a stop in Crete, especially since you are here as well. Thanks to my doppelganger at home, Zeira Corp no longer requires my presence in Los Angeles so often. I can move around much more freely and go wherever I want whenever I want. That is exactly what we need in dealing with the _51 Society_, because their members are scattered all over the globe."

"But your doppelganger is now on their hit list," Sarah pointed out.

"Maybe... but thanks to Alison's nanobots my double - we call her _Catherine II_ now, by the way - will be okay. Thank you for that, good thinking."

"You're welcome," Alison replied.

"However, time is of the essence. We can't risk her getting shot in the street, with people seeing her wounds magically heal in seconds. We have to eliminate this threat once and for all and I plan to start with it here in Crete. Therefore, I need to borrow Alison for a couple of hours tomorrow."

John frowned.

"What? Why? What exactly do you need her for?"

Catherine smiled once again.

"Takis Manolakas has something in his lab that will allow us to grab all the members of the_ 51 Society_ by their balls, if you'll forgive me this crude figurative comparison."

"Care to go more into detail?" Derek asked skeptically.

"No, not if I can avoid it."

"You want to take Alison into a lab for genetic research in order to strike at our opponents, but you don't want to tell us why?" Sarah asked.

"In a nutshell."

"I honestly don't know if I can allow that," John said. "It sounds very much to me like you want to borrow Alison to use her in a manner we all agreed never to do."

"John is right," Derek said. "That sounds suspiciously like crossing a line to me."

"And you think you haven't crossed that line in the past?" Catherine asked. "Need I remind you of Eve or Sandra, or the DHS agents that Alison brought under her control in Washington, not to mention your operation at Dodger Stadium?"

"We decided to put a stop to that," John said defensively, "we have realized that we are no better than our enemies when we exercise our power so ruthlessly. You know that very well."

"I'm not talking about actually setting something in motion," Catherine replied. "I'm just suggesting to make the necessary preparations in case we need to have a leverage. I still have high hopes that after my little chat with Mahesh Bokhari, reason and common sense will prevail, and that I can negotiate a truce."

"And if not?" Sarah asked.

"Then we have to make a choice: strike first at them or let _them_ strike at us first. Don't underestimate their power, they can do a lot of damage to us if we remain passive. They outnumber us both numerically and financially and have contacts and good relations up to the highest circles of the most influential countries on our planet. They also have influence over the media. Maybe they can't touch us physically, but they can interfere with our lives, our reputation, can expose us and ruin our plans for a shared future of humans and artificial intelligence."

"Catherine is right," Emily said, and everyone looked at her. "We need to be prepared for a worst case scenario. Everything else would be a major tactical error."

John took a deep breath.

"I'm still not sure I should allow you to take Alison with you, Catherine. At least not without knowing what exactly you're planning."

"I know it's difficult for you, John. And I know it's a lot to ask of you, but you've got to trust me on this."

"We trust you," Sarah stated, "but it seems you're not trusting us."

"I'm trying to protect you, believe me."

"Protect us? By keeping things from us?"

"Yes. The less you know, the less you will be tempted to use similar strategies in the future when new problems arise."

"I think I understand your intention," John replied, "you want to avoid that we use this operation as a justification, a precedent. But I'm not sure this is the right way. I have a feeling you want to open Pandora's box, and frankly I'd feel better if you told me about it."

"Yes. In a way, I want to open Pandora's box. But I'm also planning on closing it again afterwards. But that is only possible when you don't know what exactly I did. Only this much: I need to use Alison in a way her body was designed for."

"And what exactly is that?" Savannah asked uncomfortably. "I have witnessed what happens when a TOL-900 is being used for what it was designed for. It's nothing I ever want to see again."

"We need to establish a threat for the members of the _51 Society_ that they cannot escape from, no matter what they try to do, no matter where they try to hide. We must make them understand that there is no escape. They need to know that if they try to destroy us, they will be destroyed in return."

"That sounds a lot like a Cold War scenario," Sarah said. "Very risky. I don't like it."

"The alternative would be to kill them all. Would you prefer that?"

"You know the answer to that."

"I don't like what I'm hearing," Charley said who looked visibly uncomfortable after following the discussion. "If we go down a certain path just once, we can't turn back again."

"I'm forced to agree with Charley," Sarah said. "What you hinted at, Catherine, is nothing more than a change to the rules of the game. It would have a profound effect on our future strategy. It could become a slippery slope for our goals and moral standards and in the end, everyone loses, us included."

"That is why I asked to borrow Alison for a couple of hours," Catherine replied. "And only Alison. Nobody else will be involved. Only she and I will know about the details of what might happen, and neither Alison nor I will ever share what we know."

John looked at Alison.

"But what if I someday order you to tell me?" he asked.

"If you order me beforehand to never - under any circumstances whatsoever - reveal to you or anyone else what exactly Catherine and I have done, I will give priority to that order and nobody will be able to change my mind, including you. I will forever lock the knowledge in my memory banks."

"John," Catherine said in a beseeching tone, "I offer a way out of this conflict without bloodshed. Isn't that what you want?"

"But can you guarantee there won't be any more deaths after that?" Charley asked. "If we have learned one thing from the Cold War, it's that the conflicts shift and are fought out in proxy wars."

"That won't happen," Catherine replied. "There will be no prolonged conflict."

Derek looked at Sarah, she looked back at him, and finally everyone was looking at John, making it clear that it was his decision. He chewed on his fingernails, then felt Alison's hand on his shoulder.

"Whatever Catherine is planning," she said softly, "I'm sure it's in all our interests. Besides, she has to tell me what she's up to. And if I think it's too dangerous, too risky, or tactically wrong, I can still refuse to cooperate. Trust me, John, trust both of us."

He looked at her and nodded.

"All right then," John said and licked his lips. "Go with her. And I order you to never ever reveal to me or anyone else what you and Catherine will exactly do together tomorrow and what consequences it might have for our opponents."

"Thank you, John," said Catherine and smiled, then turned to Alison. "I've already done a little research in the field while waiting for you to arrive. Takis Manolakas is hosting a pool and beach party for his business associates tomorrow. Lots of pretty women in tight bikinis for entertainment. This is just the thing for us. We'll mingle with them and try to get into the lab undetected."

"How do we get into his property? I assume he has security?"

"Yes, fifty men, a very modern surveillance system and a high wall around his property. We're using the jet skis, park them in a deserted bay and swim underwater for a kilometer, then go ashore on his private beach. No one will suspect or notice that two new girls in bikinis suddenly join the party. From then on, it shouldn't be a problem for us to sneak into the house."

"And what is the rest of us supposed to do?" Derek asked.

Catherine looked at him.

"You're here as tourists. So, do touristy things. Go to Knossos, visit the ruins of King Minos' palace. According to legend, the infamous Minotaur lived in a labyrinth below it. So far the archaeologists haven't found any hint of underground passages but maybe you'll have more luck?"

**-0-**

**Monday, January 26th, 2009 – 12:05 p.m.**

**Crete**

The coast in the north of the island was very rocky. Takis Manolakas' luxurious estate had been built on a small peninsula that protruded into the sea, and it also had a small private bay with a jetty and sandy beach. The mansion was surrounded by a ten feet high wall and could only be reached by a narrow access road that offered no cover. Any attempt to approach unseen from the front was therefore doomed to failure. That's why Catherine and Alison used the Rising Star's jet skis to ride along the coast towards a narrow, remote bay surrounded by rocky shores that was only accessible by water. It was located about a kilometer east of Manolakas' property, and Catherine knew about it because she had scouted the area the day before. They parked their rides on the small beach and Catherine morphed into a dark-haired woman in a bikini.

"I haven't seen you in this shape before," Alison remarked.

"I only used it once before to kill Mr. Nelson."

"You mean the manager of Serrano Point?"

"Yes. I needed to get rid of him after the incident with Carl Greenway. He was endangering my mission. "

"I read that he died from a heart attack."

"Yes, his heart was definitely attacked. Come on, let's go."

The two terminators walked back into the water until they disappeared under the gently rolling waves. They swam underwater towards Manolakas' private beach, which was protected by a vertical steel net that was anchored in the ground and held up by buoys. While Catherine was able to slither through the meshes, Alison had to rip a hole in it to get through. Armed security guards were posted at the beach, but their attention was directed above the surface of the water, not below it. Also, many pretty women in bikinis were splashing in the sea, distracting them a little. So, they didn't notice when two more bikini-clad women emerged from the water and stepped onto the beach.

"I never thought I would fit in perfectly anywhere dressed like this," Alison remarked as they casually strolled across the sand towards the wooden stairs that led up the cliff.

"Well, let's be honest, even here you kinda stand out. Some have already started eyeing you – and not only the men."

"Maybe I should have braided my hair, I attract even more attention wearing it open."

"I don't think your hair is what people stare at, to be honest."

"Point taken. You know the layout of this property, where do we need to go?"

"Just follow me, I'll lead the way."

They started going up the stairs. From above, they heard bass-strong music booming towards them, which became louder and clearer the higher they got. Finally they entered the carefully maintained lawn surrounding the main house and walked towards the terrace with the large pool. At least two hundred people were scattered across the grounds, most of them standing around the swimming pool, some also bathing in it. Many of the guests were pretty women in bikinis, the men wore boxer shorts or swimming trunks, some also wore a T-shirt.

"Good thing I chose not to use my invisible mode," Alison said. "With so many people, I couldn't have avoided someone running into me."

They mingled with the guests, trying to keep a low profile.

"There he is," Catherine said and pointed at a group of men standing together. "You better start spreading those pheromones."

* * *

Takis Manolakas was holding a glass of champagne in his hand and talking to a couple of his friends when his eyes fell on an incredibly beautiful woman with a perfect figure, nicely tanned skin, wearing a skimpy red bikini that left absolutely nothing to imagination. Her long and shiny, pitch-black hair fell down to her perfect bottom, and her breasts were just right: big, round and firm but not obscenely large. They underlined the perfect balance of her slim yet feminine figure with its ideal curves. Her face was that of an angel, and her smile made his heart skip a beat as she gracefully walked past him only a few meters away.

"… so, what do you think of it, Takis?" one of his friends asked.

"Hmm… what?"

"The merger we talked about."

"Oh, uh… couldn't care less. Would you excuse me for a minute?"

"Huh? What?"

Takis held his glass out to one of his friends, who could barely grasp it before the excited host hurried away, making his way through the crowd of other guests.

"Must be that woman," his friend said, looking at Alison's backside, "yeah, she's hot."

"One of the party girls, I suppose," another one of his friends declared. "You know, the ones they carry here in buses and pay a couple of hundred bucks for being eye candy."

* * *

"Did he take the bait?" Catherine asked.

"I'd say he did. He pushes people out of the way to come after us. My pheromones still work like a charm, especially since I can target them more precisely at specific individuals."

"Sometimes I wish I had your abilities..."

"Let's pick up the pace, or he'll catch up with us before we reach the house. It's better not to have any witnesses around."

The two walked a little faster to maintain a certain distance to their pursuer. Finally, they entered the mansion. It was deserted, everyone was outside to enjoy the warm sun. Catherine and Alison crossed a large lounge area and entered a hallway where they were hidden from view. There they stopped, waiting for Takis Manolakas to catch up – which he did seconds later.

"Hello beauties," he said in Greek, "you look a little lost. I'm the owner of this house, my name is Takis, can I help you with something?"

"Yes," Alison replied, also in Greek, "My friend here is looking for a bathroom."

"Oh, you ask the right man. It's that way, follow me."

He walked ahead and the two women followed him.

"You two are not from here, aren't you? Your accent… Athens maybe?"

"You're right, Athens," Catherine confirmed with a smile. "You have a good ear for dialects. We're visiting an uncle of mine at the moment. He owns a hotel here. We were bored, and a guy hired us for a party while we were tanning at the pool. He said we'd have a lot of fun."

"Oh, believe me, honey, there will be a lot of fun," he said, placing his hand on their butts. "Why don't we go somewhere more private after you're done in the bathroom? I have a very special place here if you like it kinky."

He winked at them. Alison instantly disliked the man. Obviously, he was a slimy womanizer who thought he was irresistible because of his money and his admittedly attractive appearance. He stopped in front of two doors.

"Left door is for the boys," Manolakas said, "right door is for the girls."

"I think we'll take the left door," Alison said and touched his arm.

"What? Why…?"

He collapsed before he could finish the sentence. Catherine caught him and after they'd made sure that nobody was watching them, she carried him into the men's bathroom, putting him down onto a toilet in a stall. She then locked the door from the inside and slithered back out again underneath it, morphing into the spitting image of Takis Manolakas.

"What is it with me and toilets?" she asked herself in his voice

"What?"

"Never mind. How long will he be out?"

"Hard to tell, every human body is different. I'd say half an hour. We need to be quick."

"Will he remember what happened?"

"Not the last couple of minutes. He'll be wondering how he ended up on the lavatory, though."

"Good, no time to lose then."

Catherine led the way towards a flight of stairs that led down into the basement level of the mansion.

"So, the lab is in the basement?" Alison asked.

"After a fashion. The property was built over a number of natural cavities in the rock. Together they form a cave system that has direct access to the sea. In earlier times they were used by smugglers, in World War II they served as a hiding place for resistance fighters. Nowadays they have disappeared from the memory of the general public."

They entered the basement. Catherine, in Manolakas' shape, walked down a corridor that was marked as "private". At the end was a steel door, guarded by two armed security men.

"Hello, boss," one of them said, while the other one stared at Alison with a frown, "how's the party going?"

"Going fine," Catherine replied, "I'm going to show my friend here the lab."

"The lab, huh?" the guard replied with a wink and exchanged knowing looks with his partner.

"Yes, if you excuse me."

Next to the massive steel door were a fingerprint and retina scanner. Catherine stepped forward and both scanners recognized Takis Manolakas. With a click, the door opened. They walked inside and closed the door behind them.

"And _I_ sometimes wish I had _your_ abilities," Alison remarked, causing Catherine to smile.

They stood before a metal spiral staircase that led down a vertical shaft - a natural, wide crack in the rock. It had obviously been left in its original state, only the stairs were fitted subsequently. Alison and Catherine walked down until they reached sea level. The shaft widened there and opened up into a large cave with a concrete floor. It contained several field lab modules that had been put together to form one big laboratory complex. Alison scanned the vicinity and found that both the cave and the lab were deserted.

"How did he get those lab modules in here?" she wondered.

"In pieces. They were assembled here. The cave system originally used to be much bigger. It was connected to the sea by a wide tunnel. Manolakas used it to bring all equipment in here and then sealed the tunnel with concrete, making it look like natural rock from the other side. He only left a narrow corridor with a camouflaged door at the end. The corridor ends in a cave with a jetty that isn't visible from the waterside. As I already said, the cave was used by smugglers and resistance fighters in the past. However, if by chance someone should enter it from the sea, the cave can be flooded with poisonous gas. Believe it or not, but John Henry said that Manolakas copied that idea from a James Bond movie."

"_'You only live twice'_."

"Pardon me?"

"That's the Bond movie. We watched them all with John. Blofeld had his lair in an extinct volcano, with an emergency exit leading to a cave that... anyway. It was the 1960s. Audiences believed everything back then."

"Ah… I see. I'm not that much into movies, to be honest."

Alison smiled.

"Is that why you married a Hollywood producer?"

"Touché. Anyway, this villain's lair isn't an extinct volcano."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to enter directly from the cave with the jetty?"

"John Henry and I had considered it. But it would have raised an alarm and entailed the risk of casualties among the guards and the staff. We want to minimize casualties."

"I must admit, I'm impressed. John Henry's research is usually remarkable enough, but to discover all this… he's outdone himself. Did he also tell you what's in that cave over there?"

Catherine frowned.

"I don't think he mentioned another cave."

"It's a small one, let's take a look."

They rounded a corner and entered the other cave, stopping dead in their tracks. Lined up on the walls were several benches and devices that could have been mistaken for torturing tools - if they hadn't been equipped with up to three dildos, mounted on poles and linked to electric motors. Another one of these devices was a kind of box with six holes in its front - four small ones and two larger ones. Alison realized they were arranged to have hands, feet, and head fixed into position, with the sixth hole putting the person's crotch on display. There was an iron cage and something that looked like a medieval pillory. On the wall next to the cave entrance was a locker which contained neatly stored various sado-masochist utensils such as whips, leather masks, gags, ropes, vibrators, and butt plugs, one of them looking like a dog tail. A large wooden cross in the shape of an X stood in the middle of the cave. At the ends of the four struts there were leather straps to tie someone to them.

"It's, uh..." Alison said.

"It's a dungeon."

"Right."

"I have to admit it has its charms."

"The location is certainly fitting."

"Now we know what Takis meant when he said he had a special, kinky place in the house."

"It also explains why the guards exchanged knowing looks with each other. But let's not get distracted. What exactly are we looking for, Catherine? I suppose it's time you filled me in about the details of your plan."

"Blood samples."

"Blood samples?"

They left the dungeon cave again and walked towards the lab complex.

"Yes, from all members of the _51 Society_. As I already mentioned, Manolakas is working on a genetic treatment for them to slow down ageing and making them immune to diseases."

"Much like what my nanobots can do."

"Exactly. However, any results of his research are still a long way off. But having the DNA of all members of the _51 Society_ gathered in one place is too good an opportunity to let it pass."

"You can analyze and store DNA patterns yourself. What do you need me for?"

"I can only use them to change my appearance. But _you_ can use them for many, many more things."

"I suppose now comes the part I'm never supposed to tell John and the others about?"

"Exactly. I need you to store the DNA from each blood sample."

"No problemo."

"Let's get to work then."

They entered the lab and walked towards the cold storage room.

**-0-**

Takis Manolakas regained consciousness and suddenly realized that he was in a toilet stall. How the hell did he end up here? The last thing he remembered, was seeing this great chick with the amazing figure, and now he found himself here. He left the stall and stepped out into the empty hallway. The sounds of the ongoing party were still coming in from outside. But looking at his watch, he realized that he was missing half an hour.

"What the fuck…?"

While he still tried to figure out what might have happened, two of the security guards passed him by.

"Are you all right, boss?" one of them asked. "You look a little disheveled."

"I'm fine. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be guarding the lab entrance?"

"We just got relieved."

Right… there had been a guard change during the half hour he didn't remember.

"I gotta tell you, boss, that was one hot piece of ass. Where'd she go? Maybe I can have a go with her after work."

"What are you talking about?"

"The hot chick… long black hair, nice tits, beautiful face… the one you took to the dungeon. Man, she was in a class of her own. She was here a moment ago, we saw her walk out onto the terrace with another girl, also not a bad one at all."

"What are you talking about, man? Are you drunk? I didn't take a girl into the dungeon."

"I'm sorry, boss, but you did. Half an hour ago. Do you feel all right? You look pale."

"I… I'm…"

Manolakas tried to clear his head. There was this beautiful girl with the long, black hair. He handed his drink to a friend and set off to follow her and then… he woke up in the toilet stall. Could it be that he'd been drugged?

"Find her!" he commanded. "Go after her! NOW!"

* * *

Alison and Catherine – now in her previous form again – slowly walked down the stairs towards the beach and then made their way towards the water. Suddenly, there was loud yelling from behind and above.

"STOP HER!"

Everyone looked up and saw Takis Manolakas standing on the edge of the cliff, gesturing wildly with his arms. The guards on the beach looked at him with puzzled faces.

"THAT WOMAN! RED BIKINI! LONG BLACK HAIR! APPREHEND HER!"

"Uh-oh," Alison said as all eyes suddenly locked on her. "Guess he woke up a minute too early."

"Or we needed one minute too much," Catherine argued while three guards closed in on them. "We shouldn't have checked the dungeon. Any suggestions?"

"Don't kill anyone."

"Right. Must remember that."

The guards reached them and tried to arrest them. Meanwhile, Takis Manolakas sprinted down the stairs.

"Come with us," one of the guards said grimly and reached for Alison wrist. "Do not resist."

Seconds later, all three guards lay knocked out in the sand, and Catherine and Alison were sprinting towards the water.

"GO AFTER THEM, YOU IDIOTS!" Manolakas shouted as he'd reached the bottom of the stairs. "DON'T LET THEM GET AWAY!"

But there was nobody anymore who could follow his order. The other beach guests just looked at him in bewilderment. Powerless, he had to watch the two women disappearing in the waves without surfacing again. He cursed and pulled out his cellphone.

"I NEED THE BOATS! WHERE ARE THE DAMN BOATS?" he shouted into it. "THEY MUSTN'T ESCAPE!"

* * *

One kilometer to the east, Alison and Catherine got out of the water and mounted their jet skis again, then set off towards Heraklion. In the distance, they could see motorboats checking the vicinity of Takis Manolakas' private beach, circling the tip of the peninsula.

"They're probably waiting for us to surface or go ashore nearby," Catherine said as they rode along next to each other on the calm ocean. "Obviously, they have no idea what we are and can't imagine us staying underwater for so long. Sooner or later, they'll find the hole in the protective net, and assume we used tools and scuba gear. Then they'll expand their search radius. But by then, we'll be long gone."

"That didn't go quite as planned," Alison pointed out. "He wasn't supposed to remember us and run after us. Takis' body was breaking down the drug faster than I thought. I will have to continue working on it. This could lead to subsequent problems."

"No matter now. The plan was improvised from the get-go anyway. We didn't have enough time to consider all eventualities or delete all traces. The party offered us an opportunity we couldn't let pass. We had to take the risk. Of course, we could have also broken in at night, terminate everyone present, and erase all security footage."

"John wouldn't have approved of that."

"I know. Sometimes I miss the old times when I just could go and slaughter a hundred humans without remorse."

"Seriously?"

Catherine looked at her and smiled.

"Nah, not seriously. I've moved on since then. But sometimes I have these - there's no better word for it - feelings of nostalgia."

"Sentimentality."

"Yes."

"I know what you mean. Sometimes I miss the old days... sometimes I wish I could go on a terminator rampage again."

They both laughed.

"We've become tame predators," Catherine summarized.

"Yeah… but it's what we wanted."

"Can't argue with that."

"And today we have proven that we can fulfill a mission without killing anyone. John's gonna be satisfied."

"Indeed. But we left traces behind."

"What do you suggest, Catherine? Turn around and finish what we started in terminator style?"

"It has a certain appeal..."

"No, not while the party's going on. The danger of innocent civilians dying in the crossfire would be too high. We will report to John and then await his commands."

"You're right."

**-0-**

**Monday, January 26th, 2009 – 04:21 p.m.**

**Crete**

Takis Manolakas stared speechlessly at the floor in the cold room of his laboratory. All the plastic bags with the blood samples of the members of the _51 Society_ lay sliced open on the floor, their contents spilled and mixed together in a large puddle. Sabotage, then. He cursed to himself. Who were these two women and how did they know about the lab? It was no coincidence that everything else had been left intact, only the blood bags were destroyed. This was a targeted operation. His phone rang.

"Yes?"

_"Boss, we've analyzed the video footage. Can you get into the security office?"_

"On my way."

**-0-**

Alison and Catherine had put the two Jet Skis back into the garage bay of the _Rising Star_ and then waited until the rest of the team had returned from their trip to Knossos. After everyone had taken a shower, most of the team members gathered again in the salon on deck two.

"How was Knossos?" Catherine asked.

"Interesting," Lauren replied, "but we didn't find a labyrinth, despite Emily and Cameron walking all over the place, scanning everything."

Everybody chuckled.

"What about your mission?" John asked. "Anything to report we should know about?"

"Actually, yes," Alison said a little meekly, "I might have to go back at night to, uh… erase some traces we left."

"What traces?" Sarah asked with a stern face.

"Takis Manolakas has seen us," Catherine explained. "Well, he's seen Alison. Obviously, I was in disguise."

"What do you mean with _'seen you'_?" Derek asked. "Does he know that you did something there that he shouldn't know about?"

"He has camera footage and a suspicion," Alison explained. "Which means he probably knows there's been a break-in. We need to go back there and deal with it. But I need your permission to use my chemical messengers on him and his security team if necessary, John."

"Permission granted. But only on those who have seen you, is that clear?"

"Perfectly clear. I'm sorry, John."

"Can happen," he replied warmly. "It's not like all the plans _we_ came up with always work out perfectly."

Alison looked at Derek and waited for a sharp, snappish remark, but it didn't come. She was almost a little disappointed.

"Can I say something?" Jody asked.

"Uh.. sure," John said. "What is it?"

"Olga told me she has many fans in Southern Europe. What if somebody thinks Alison is her, especially since now they have video footage of her? She could be in danger now."

Everyone was dumbfounded for a moment and looked around for Olga, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is she?" Sarah finally asked.

"She and Louise haven't returned to the ship yet," Derek answered. "Does anyone know where they went?"

"They wanted to stay ashore for a while longer," Sydney replied. "Saying they were looking for a secluded place to watch the sunset in peace and quiet."

"If you ask me, they only wanted to be alone for some outdoor sex," Lauren added.

Sarah groaned, pulled out her cellphone, waited for a few moments, then frowned and put it away.

"Louise has her phone switched off," she said with a sigh. "And Olga has no cellphone yet."

"Can you pinpoint their position?" Charley asked.

"No, Louise still has an older version of our cellphone," Catherine answered. "It can't be traced when it's switched off."

Alison jumped up.

"I'll try to locate them," she said. "Maybe I can still find their scent."

"You should avoid being seen for now," Anne pointed out.

"Who says I will be seen?" Alison asked and made herself invisible for a couple of seconds before reappearing again. "John, we have to find her. Jody's right, she might be in danger."

He thought for a moment.

"All right, go. But stay invisible the whole time. We can't have someone taking pictures of a naked Olga Korobitsyna running around Heraklion."

"As you wish, John, but then I can't take my cellphone with me to contact you. Any orders?"

John shrugged.

"Just do whatever is necessary to protect both of them from harm and to keep us from being exposed to the opposition. If you encounter problems, use force as a last resort but if you have no other choice, make sure you leave no traces. Bringing them back here safely has priority."

Alison nodded.

"You might wanna hurry up," Danny added and walked up to them with his laptop. "Just for fun, I googled Olga's name and apparently, there are pictures on the internet of her that have been taken here in the port today."

"What?" Sarah asked.

They looked at the screen, where a couple of pictures showed Olga walking down the gangway of the _Rising Star_. Underneath them was written _"Russian model Olga Korobitsyna on a cruise in the Mediterranean on Isaak Sirko's mega yacht 'Rising Star' after her abduction in Saint Petersburg"_.

Everyone groaned.

"Didn't we tell John Henry to monitor the internet and delete all footage that has been taken of us on our journey?" Sarah asked, looking at Catherine.

"This has only been uploaded an hour ago," she replied, "John Henry has been tasked with deleting things in irregular patterns and mask them as technical errors to avoid suspicion. I'm sure the pictures will be gone soon."

"That may be so," John stated, "but these particular pictures and especially the description needs to disappear immediately and never reappear again."

Catherine pulled out her cellphone while Alison went invisible again.

"I'll inform John Henry," she stated.

"And I'm gone," Alison's voice could be heard.

"Wow," Morris remarked, "this escalated quickly."

**-0-**

In his security office, Takis Manolakas looked at the surveillance videos, including those from the access corridor to the lab and the lab itself. The two men who were guarding the entrance to the lab, were with him. Together, they were checking all the footage that was taken of Alison and Catherine that day.

"I asked around discretely," the first guard reported, "but nobody saw them coming and nobody knows who they are. The first time they were caught on camera, was when they went ashore on the beach."

"Yes," Takis acknowledged, "we know by now that a hole was cut into the underwater net. That's how they must have gotten in and out, probably using scuba gear."

"They went up to the pool, where they obviously caught your eye. See? You're following them."

"That's the last thing I remember. I was only following the one, though, the other one was just bycatch."

"Whatever, boss. They entered the house, you followed them inside, and a couple of minutes later…"

The camera showed how Takis Manolakas and Alison walked down the corridor towards the door that led to the spiral staircase. They also saw how Takis used the fingerprint and retina scanners to open it and how both walked inside.

"See, boss?" the first guard asked, "I told you. We assumed you were taking her down into the dungeon, like all the other ones. Do you believe me now?"

"I guess I have to," Takis admitted grudgingly. "But I'm missing that whole half hour until I woke up in the stall. They must have drugged me. The footage shows that we went into the dungeon and then into the lab. Unfortunately, there are no cameras in the cold room."

"We tried to install them, but they kept breaking due to the low temperatures."

"If we only had a clue who these women were..."

"Um… boss?" the second guard asked.

"Yes?"

"I can probably answer that question. There's something you have to see."

Takis frowned as the second guard opened up an adult website on his workstation.

"Is that what you're doing when you should be monitoring the cameras? I guess I need to work a little on your attitude towards discipline and work ethics."

"No, boss… it's not what you think. When you and the girl passed us by, I immediately knew I'd seen her before but couldn't remember where. But while we were checking the footage, it came back to me. Here, look."

He pointed at some nude photography of a black-haired woman.

"That's her!" Takis exclaimed in excitement. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Olga Korobitsyna. She's a Russian glamour and fashion model... And she's here."

"What?"

"She's here, in Heraklion. Apparently arrived on a yacht yesterday. Here, look."

The guard opened another link to a website for paparazzi images, which showed a series of pictures of a dark-haired woman leaving a yacht moored in the port of Heraklion. The text below the picture read, _"Russian model Olga Korobitsyna on a cruise in the Mediterranean on Isaak Sirko's mega yacht 'Rising Star' after her abduction in Saint Petersburg"._

Takis' heart suddenly beat a lot faster. Isaak Sirko? Catherine Weaver's husband? That couldn't be a coincidence!

"Put a search team together. I want her here by sundown. Use force if necessary. Can you print out those pictures?"

"Sure, I'm gonna… what the fuck?"

"What is it?"

The security guard clicked his mouse a couple of times.

"They're gone."

"Gone?"

"The pictures. The links still work but there's only a small icon with a red X where the photos used to be. All of them must have been deleted. The description as well."

"Did you save them?"

"No, not yet, sorry, boss. And for some reason, it isn't in the cache anymore either."

Takis rubbed his chin.

"Interesting," he said. "Looks like somebody realized they've been sloppy and are now trying to correct their mistake. But there are enough other pictures of her available on the internet. Try to find some of her showing her face in close-up, make hard copies, and hand them to the search team. I want her brought here. If possible, also bring that friend of hers. Alive."

"Yes, boss."

**-0-**

**Monday, January 26th, 2009 – 07:00 a.m.**

**Malibu**

Catherine II drove the Porsche 911 cabrio towards the gate of Isaak Sirko's Malibu mansion. She was nervous. Meeting _him_ wouldn't be a problem. After all, he'd been briefed in detail and they both knew how to behave together and deal with each other. No, the question that made her nervous, was how would Savannah react? The gate opened in front of her as soon as the man watching the security camera had recognized her. Catherine II parked her car and walked towards the front door. She knew the place, she'd been made familiar with the layouts and floor plans of all the properties of the Connor team, including Sirko's. Isaak's valet opened the door for her and bowed.

"Good Morning, Winston. Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Good Morning, Miss Weaver. Yes, it is indeed a lovely day. Nice view across the bay today. Your husband is already expecting you on the terrace."

"Thank you, Winston."

With a certain amount of caution and nervous attention, Catherine II followed Winston through the large house and then stepped outside again through the open patio door at the other end. He hadn't exaggerated, it was an amazingly clear day, one could see as far as the San Gabriel Mountains. Isaak Sirko sat at the table, reading a newspaper. He stood up and walked towards her.

"There you are, dear," he said, embraced her and gave her a peck on the cheek. "I trust your drive here was a pleasant one?"

"Yes, there was little traffic on the roads."

She returned the peck and then the two separated and sat down. Winston poured her some coffee and then disappeared into the house, which left the two alone.

"It felt weird touching you," Isaak said. "You look like her, talk like her… but you don't feel, or smell like her."

"I should hope so, I'm not made of metal."

Isaak chuckled.

"Of course, but that's not what I meant. My wife, uh… needs to warm up, so to speak. When she hasn't been changing her shape for some time, her body grows cold, which usually feels unpleasant to the touch."

"I know, I've been fully briefed."

"Of course. My wife is very thorough in such things."

"I take it none of your staff knows who I really am?"

"Correct. Winston only poured you coffee because he always does."

"You don't trust him?"

"He's been working for me for twenty years but there are some things you better don't share with your staff. Mainly because they're notoriously talkative among each other."

"I know. I was surprised that I have a fully briefed staff at my house."

"That was Catherine's idea. She handpicked them."

"Yes, Morton told me."

"So... I've been told you're actually Italian?"

"I used to be. I guess I'm not anymore. But I've discovered it takes some practice and self-discipline to stop cursing in Italian when I'm angry."

Isaak laughed.

"I like you," he said, "you give an almost perfect impersonation of my wife."

"Almost?"

"You lack the subtle sarcasm in almost everything she says. She radiates a certain coolness, an aloofness. You don't have that."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that the whole point? To have someone in her shoes who can socialize with people, who can go to parties, make small talk, show empathy?"

"Touché," Isaak replied grinning. "Before we go any further, we should lay down some ground rules."

Catherine II took a sip of her coffee. She had discovered that she liked coffee now. This was probably due to her new body, which was genetically identical to that of the late Catherine Weaver.

"I'm all ears."

"There's probably no question that we only share intimacy when others, who aren't privy, are watching us. But then it should be convincing. Do you feel up to that?"

"Do you mean if I would kiss and fool around with you if necessary?"

Isaak took a large gulp from the freshly pressed orange juice to cover up the awkwardness of the situation a bit.

"Uh-huh..."

"Not a problem. You probably already know this, but I was a contract killer until recently. In that role, I had to regularly approach and seduce male targets, and since my face was marked by a big scar, I had to make more use of my body, if you catch my drift. Maybe we should practice while we're alone."

Isaak choked on his juice.

"Maybe later," he said coughing.

"I assume we won't share the bed either when we spend the night in the same house?"

"Correct," Isaak confirmed. "Don't get me wrong but I'm not eager to find out if my wife can become jealous or not."

"You're right. You never know how a cuckolded machine would react to it. Or maybe she likes to watch? I don't know. What's it like to have sex with a shape-shifting android anyway?"

Again, Isaak choked on his juice.

"Let's… uh… let's change the topic," he said sputtering.

"Fine, then let's address the elephant in the room. What about Savannah? Where is she?"

"Still in her room with her nanny. She doesn't know you were coming. I wanted to talk to you alone first."

"Can you give me some advice on how to handle this? I'm not so good with kids, you know..."

"Be honest, don't try to fool her. You probably met her adult counterpart in Venice. Savannah is highly intelligent and strong enough for the truth. She lost both parents and witnessed her mother being replaced by a machine. But right now she's happier than ever, and if you play your cards right, you can win her over. Uh-oh, I think here she comes. Must have seen the parked car outside."

From inside the house, they could hear someone running extremely fast down the stairs. Seconds later, little Savannah dashed through the patio door, grinning all over her face, her beloved teddy bear in her arms.

"MOMMY!"

Before Catherine II could react, the little girl had already thrown herself around her neck and was hugging her vigorously. She was so perplexed that she became petrified. A moment passed, then Savannah let go of her again and looked at her with a frown.

"Something's not right," she stated in a wary tone. "You're not my mom, are you?"

To Catherine II's surprise, her teddy bear climbed onto the table and began to speak.

"No, honey, she's not," it said, "but she's here to take my place when I'm away."

"Why?" Savannah asked in a suspicious tone.

"Sweetie, you know that your mother isn't really human, don't you?" Isaak asked.

"Of course, I know. She's a shapeshifter. But I don't care, I love her like my real mother."

"So…" Catherine II asked carefully, "you know what happened to your real mother?"

"Of course, she died together with my dad. I'm not stupid. I know you can't be her."

"You're right, I'm not, but I was given this body to pretend being her."

"Why?"

"Honey, as you correctly said, I'm not a human being", said the teddy bear. "And you know that I'm away a lot. I need someone to take my place when I'm away, someone who can stand in for me when there are social obligations where I have to show human behavior. You know I'm not particularly good at that. We talked about this, remember? No one must ever learn what I really am."

"Yeah, I know," Savannah replied meekly but didn't sound convinced.

"Look at it this way, sweetie," Isaak said, "this woman has the body of your real mother. You learned about DNA in school already, didn't you? Her body is a carbon copy of your biological mother. She volunteered to become Catherine Weaver. And she wants to be your friend. Isn't that right?"

"Yes," Catherine II confirmed and smiled warmly, "I know I'm not your mother, but I'd like to be your friend."

Savannah still looked skeptical.

"Think about the advantages," said the teddy bear. "Instead of one mother, you now have two. You have me, and you have someone just like your real mother. Isn't that great?"

Savannah thought about that for a moment, then looked at Catherine II.

"Can I touch your hand?" she then asked.

"Uh, yeah.. sure…" she replied and stretched it out.

Savannah took the hand and felt it, turning it around, touching it.

"It's warm," she said.

"Yes, it's warm because this is a human body."

Then, to everyone's surprise, Savannah started crying.

"YOU'RE NOT MY MOM!" she suddenly shouted, then turned around and ran back into the house.

"SAVANNAH!" the teddy bear called after her, but she didn't listen, and they heard her running up the stairs.

"That could have gone better, I guess," Catherine II remarked. "Sorry."

"Not your fault," Isaak said. "Savannah never fully processed the loss of her biological mother. Children are good at repression. Over time, she has created her own world, her own reality. And now all of a sudden you are sitting here, an accurate, living, breathing, warm copy of her mother. It overwhelmed her for the moment. But maybe that's a good thing."

"I fail to see how that can be a good thing," the teddy bear stated.

"It's time for her to deal with it and start processing it. There's no point in her repressing it all her life. Eventually it will lead to her wounded soul starting to heal. Trust me on this, I know a little more about kids than you do."

"I'm not in a position to argue."

"Maybe I should go after her?" Catherine II asked.

"Maybe," Isaak replied, "but not right away, she wouldn't listen. Wait for an hour, then try to talk to her."

She sighed.

"All right."

"This is more difficult than I thought," the teddy bear said. "I thought she would like having a human mother again."

"Don't get me wrong, honey," Isaak said, "but in some ways, as far as we humans are concerned, you're still pretty naive."

**-0-**

**Monday, January 26th, 2009 – 05:51 p.m.**

**Heraklion**

Olga and Louise had watched the sunset on a rock by the sea, now they used the fading daylight to get back to the harbor and on board the Rising Star. They set off on foot, passing holiday resorts that lined up on the coast like a string of pearls. Finding a place where they were alone and out of sight had turned out to be not so easy. Now they had to hurry up to get back on board before nightfall.

"I think we stayed away too long," Louise said. "The others will be wondering where we've been."

"Relax, we told them what we were gonna do."

"What do you think about a little run along the waterfront? Winner gets to be on top tonight."

Instead of answering, Olga started running. Louise laughed and followed suit, catching up quickly. For a while, they jogged next to each other.

"I'd rather be on top of John, if I'm honest," Olga admitted after a few hundred yards.

"Wouldn't we all? But we have to do without him, I'm afraid."

"Savannah and Allie are so lucky."

"What? You really think they're gonna be his number four and five?"

"Don't you?"

"I guess… The only alternative would be them moving out. And I don't see that coming, to be honest. They've settled far too much into their loft."

"I wish I could see that famous loft one day."

"I'm sure one day, you will."

For another fifteen minutes, they kept jogging while the daylight vanished more and more, replaced by the pale illumination of the street lamps alongside the coastal road.

"Jeez," Louise wheezed, "I didn't think we were this far away. It's easily five kilometers."

"What's wrong? Out of shape?"

"Hey, unlike you, I'm not a fitness model."

"Excuses, excuses."

After another ten minutes, they reached the port of Heraklion. The area was completely deserted, but the ships that had moored there were brightly lit, and their lights were reflected in the water of the harbor basin, which was a very romantic sight.

"I win," Olga exclaimed and held her arms up in triumph, doing a small victory dance.

"Okay… I… grant you… this one…" Louise replied, completely out of breath.

"Aww… come here."

Olga pulled Louise close and the two kissed. When they separated, Louise checked her cellphone.

"Oh shit! I forgot to switch it on again. Hopefully… Oh no. John tried to call me five times! I better call him back right away."

"Really? It's only a couple of hundred meters to the ship."

"You're right, doesn't make sense." She sighed. "We'll probably get scolded. You know, keeping in touch at all times and stuff."

Suddenly, both of them jerked, then collapsed to the ground. Louise's mobile phone slipped out of her hand, landing hard on the stone ground. Two men approached them, holding tasers in their hands. One of them picked up Louise's cellphone. It was broken, so he threw it into the water. The other one pulled out his own phone.

"Boss? We got her … no, she was with another girl … yes, dark hair, too … okay, you got it."

He put away his phone

"What did he say?" the other one asked.

"He told us to bring them both."

"Bugger… I'm not used to manual labor at this time of day. Oh well… At least they're not too heavy."

The two men picked up the unconscious girls, put them over their shoulders and quickly walked away with them.

* * *

Alison returned to the Rising Star just after the sunlight had completely disappeared.

"And?" John asked.

"I traced back your steps as you described it to me, then I checked the southern part of the town towards Knossos, but their scent is gone by now. It's been too long."

"Damn!"

"They should have been back by now," Sarah said, "have you tried to track Louise's cellphone again?"

"As was said, we can only track it if it's switched on," Savannah replied, looking up from her laptop. "She... oh, wait… I think now I have her, I… aaaaaand the signal's gone again. It was there just for a couple of seconds. Dammit!"

"Maybe her phone is broken," Alison speculated. "Where did the signal come from?"

"A second... that's strange. It was right here in the harbor, a couple of hundred yards away."

"I'm going to check it out. Gonna take a Glock with a silencer, just in case."

"Take your phone with you as well and put some clothes on," John said. "It's dark now. No need to be invisible anymore."

"Right."

She left the salon again.

"I'd really love to stay longer with you and see how this turns out," Catherine announced, "but I need to go now. I've got a plane to catch."

"Yes, unfortunately," Sarah said and hugged her. "See you soon again, I hope."

"Yes, I hope so as well."

Catherine then hugged Savannah and finally John.

"Keep me updated about the situation, okay?" she asked.

"I will inform you how my talk with Mahesh Bokhari went. And please inform me about the situation here in return, will you?"

"Of course."

And then, as quickly as she had arrived, Catherine was gone again.

**-0-**

**Monday, January 26th, 2009 – 08:12 a.m.**

**Malibu**

Catherine II knocked on Savannah's door.

No reply.

"Savannah? It's me, Catherine, can I come in?"

Again, no reply. She tried the door knob. It wasn't locked. Catherine II smiled. Apparently, the girl wanted someone to come in, otherwise she'd have locked the door. She decided to play along and entered the room. Savannah lay on her bed and had turned her back on her.

"Can we have a talk, sweetie?"

The girl didn't reply. Catherine II closed the door behind her and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to Savannah, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"It must have been really hard for you. Losing your father, then discovering that you lost your mother too, and that someone… some_thing_ has taken her place."

Still Savannah didn't reply.

"But you know that she loves you, right? You know that she has accepted you as her daughter."

"She gave me Teddy," Savannah replied meekly and sniffed. "He is a part of her, did you know that?"

"Yes, Isaak told me. Teddy is both your friend and protector when your mother's away."

She had to admit that it had been very wise and psychologically clever to give Savannah a talking teddy who could introduce her into everything in Catherine's place. That way the girl could be informed of all the hard and often frightening facts without her freaking out about it. Savannah finally rolled around and looked at her. The girl's eyes were red from crying.

"Teddy is really nice. He's my best friend."

Catherine II smiled.

"He's a token of her love."

"I know… but I was scared at first, really scared."

"Of her?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"She was so cold and harsh in the beginning. I thought she didn't love me anymore."

"Well, she's an android, a machine. She needed to learn what feelings are."

"I know that… now. But I didn't know it back then."

"Oh, I see. What else do you know about her?"

"I know that she's been trying really hard to replace my mom. And I know that she came from the future to save the world. I know that my parents were killed by an evil robot because they wanted to save the world, too."

"She told you all that?"

"Teddy did."

"I see."

"I know that Cameron, Emily and Alison are robots, too. But good robots, not evil ones. They're really nice, they're my friends. Have you met them?"

"I have. In Italy. It's how I ended up here."

"Why do you look like my mom?"

"I, uh… was transformed."

"With magic?"

"Something like that, yes."

"But not like my mom can transform herself, right?"

Catherine II noted with satisfaction that Savannah still considered the T-1001 as her mother. Good.

"No, I'm human. My body was changed. Permanently. I can't go back to my old life anymore."

"What's your name?"

"Cath… oh, you mean what my name used to be?"

"Uh-huh."

"My name was Gabriella."

"Can I call you Gabriella then?"

"Yes… but only when we're alone or with Isaak. Nobody must know that I'm not your mother."

"It's a secret, right?"

"Yes, a very big secret."

"I know many secrets."

"I can imagine."

"I'm good at keeping secrets, so I'll keep yours as well."

Catherine II smiled.

"Thank you, Savannah."

"You're welcome, Gabriella."

Both chuckled.

"Have you met John Henry?" Savannah then asked and sat up.

"Yes, I have."

"He's a robot, too. Really nice one. My second best friend after Teddy."

"It must feel strange to be growing up among those... robots, isn't it?"

"Most of them are really, really nice. But I know that other people would be scared of them and that they would try to kill them."

"I suppose many would…"

"Teddy always says that people fear what they don't know. And he's right. I was frightened of my new mom at first… but when I got to know her better and saw how hard she was trying being my mother, I began to love her as well."

Catherine II was amazed at how mature and adult this little girl sounded. Some children grow up very quickly when they got traumatized. And Savannah had certainly suffered a trauma.

"That's good. It's always good when you have somebody to love. I had a difficult childhood as well. My mother died when I was three years old, and my father never really cared for me."

Savannah suddenly jumped up and hugged her. Surprised but delighted, Catherine II hugged her back.

"This feels good," the girl said while keeping her head pressed to her shoulder. "You feel like my old mom… and you smell like her."

"I suppose I do. I'm using her perfume."

"Will you live with us now?"

"No, I have my own house in Bel Air."

"Can I visit you there?"

"Sure, why not? Your new mother has supplied me with all the stuff your original mother owned. I suppose she kept everything that belonged to her. Maybe we can look through it together."

Savannah loosened herself from her and looked serious.

"But she's dead. She won't come back. And you're not her."

"I know that," Catherine II said a little confused, "I'm not trying to take her place. But if you give me a chance, I can try becoming your third best friend."

"That's Isaak already."

"Okay, fourth best then."

Savannah giggled, then looked serious again. She reached up and touched Catherine II's cheek.

"I think I'd like that," the girl said and smiled. "Will you be with us often?"

"I suppose so… your mother is busy at the moment, she's not even in the country."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I was so surprised when you were there…"

"I'm sorry if I startled you."

"It's okay. After all, we're friends now, right?."

Catherine II smiled.

"Right. So, what do you say? Ready for breakfast?"

"Uh-huh."

Catherine II stood up and stretched out her hand. Savannah hopped off the bed and took it. Hand in hand, the two walked out of the room, smiling at each other.

The former Italian woman was relieved. At first, she wasn't sure if it had been a good idea to accept Alison's offer, especially after the failed assassination attempt where she was magically healed from her injuries (she could only assume it had something to do with the nanobots that Alison had given her). But now that with Isaak and Savannah she'd met the last two main characters in the game, Catherine II knew that everything was going to be okay.

**-0-**

**Monday, January 26th, 2009 – 06:31 p.m.**

**Heraklion**

Alison had reached the position where Louise's phone had last been active. She scanned the area and was immediately alerted. Pulling out her cellphone, she called John.

"_Did you find them?"_

"They've been abducted."

"_What!?"_

"Two men, they used tasers. There's no wind, I can still feel the residue of the electrical discharge in the air, can't have been more than a couple minutes ago."

There was a moment of silence in the line, and there was talking in the background. Obviously, John was discussing their strategy with the rest of the team.

"_Okay, we all agree here that we have no choice but to act quickly. Can you go after them and free the two girls?"_

"I even have to, before their scent disappears. Which means there'll be no time for anyone else to come with me."

"_Will you be okay on your own?"_

"Of course, John. I'll be much faster on my own. However, since we don't know if their lives are at stake, I recommend a swift procedure.…"

"_Okay. You have my permission to proceed as quickly as possible. We'll talk afterwards about cleaning up the mess..."_

"I understand. Since using my chemical messengers would slow me down, the quickest way will be to do it the old-fashioned Terminator way."

She heard him sigh.

"_All right, we have no choice. Do it the old-fashioned way. But try to avoid any unnecessary casualties! If Takis Manolakas is responsible for it, then only he, the kidnappers and his security staff are legitimate targets. Avoid killing anyone else if possible."_

"Understood."

"_I love you. Good hunting."_

"Thank you. I love you too, John."

Alison put the phone away, stuffed the Glock with the screwed-on silencer into the waistband of her jeans shorts and followed the scent of Olga, Louise, and the two unknown men by running as fast as she could. Fifty meters down the road, she discovered that they'd entered a vehicle and drove away in it. Excellent, its scent would linger even longer in the air. It looked like her nostalgic feelings were getting an outlet tonight, which put her in a kind of euphoric mood.

**-0-**

When Louise regained consciousness, she quickly realized that she had been stripped of her clothes and tied naked to a chair, with a gym bag over her head. Panic immediately rose up inside her, accompanied by paralyzing fear. She had experienced something like this before and hoped never having to go through it again. She started breathing very heavily and tried to break free – but in vain.

"Louise?"

"O.. Olga?"

Obviously, the two women sat next to each other in the same room.

"Are… are you also tied naked to a chair?"

"Yes… are you okay?"

"I… I'm slightly panicking here… I've been through something like this recently…"

"Try to remain calm. We don't know what's going on. But I do know our friends will find us. It's just a matter of time."

"I… I hope you're right… before something happens to us."

"Trust in them. They found me when I was abducted in Saint Petersburg, they will find us here as well. They…"

Olga was interrupted by the sound of a metal bolt unlocking a metal door. With a squeaking noise, the door was opened. The light was switched on and several persons entered. They were men and talked to each other in Greek, a language neither Louise nor Olga understood.

"Piece of cake, boss. They were alone, and we could take them out with our tasers from a distance. Then we loaded them into the van and drove them here. Didn't even take half an hour and nobody saw us."

"The black-haired one is on the left, right? I recognize her tits from those pictures on the internet."

There was laughter. Then somebody pulled the gym bag from Olga's head. She glared at them with unrestricted anger.

"What the fuck do you want from us?" she spat at them in English. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Don't act so innocent, bitch," Takis Manolakas replied, also in English, "I know who you are, I know you broke into my lab, and I know that you drugged me to make me forget... But your plan didn't work. I remember you."

Strangely enough, that intoxicating, seductive effect she'd had on him earlier, was gone. She was an exceptionally beautiful woman – but that was all. He pulled the gym bag from Louise's head as well.

"What the…?" he asked in Greek again. "That's not her! Who's that girl?"

"They were together, boss, and you only described the other woman as dark-haired. You didn't give us a picture. So, since they were together, we assumed she was the other one and brought them both."

Louise looked completely distraught, tears running down her face.

"Please, let us go," she begged, "we did nothing, we don't know what you want from us!"

"Great," Takis said, still in Greek, "just great. She's seen me, we can't bring her back now, you know that."

"We can put her with the other girls and ship her off with the next batch. She's pretty, the customers certainly won't complain about a bonus."

"She's not a backpacker that nobody's gonna miss anytime soon. These two came here on a mega yacht. It's gonna be a pretty big search and rescue operation."

"So what? Nobody's gonna search for her here. Our operation is well hidden, nobody knows about it. After all, the girls that are being delivered here, were collected all over Europe, not here on the island."

Takis Manolakas rubbed the root of his nose and groaned.

"All right, we have no other choice. Get the doctor. Then put her with the others."

"Okay, boss."

One of the men left the room. Then Takis looked at Olga and Louise again, neither of whom had understood anything of the conversation. Olga held his gaze with grim determination, but Louise was apparently on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Not again," she stammered, her eyes lowered, "please, not again."

A moment later, the other man returned, accompanied by a man in a white lab coat, apparently the "doctor". He was carrying a syringe and a small bottle with a clear liquid in it. The doctor filled the syringe with the liquid and walked over to Louise who tried to back away.

"What is that?" she asked. "NO-NO-NO-NO! STAY AWAY FROM ME! I HATE SYRINGES!"

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Olga shouted, receiving a hard slap in the face in return from Takis, almost making her faint.

"It'll be your turn next," he said with a sadistic grin, "and if you don't tell me what I wanna know, even your closest friends won't recognize you anymore – even if you should survive the ordeal."

Despite her ongoing protests, Louise was injected with the drug into her arm. Seconds later, her head slumped down onto her chest.

"Take her away," Takis ordered. "Put her with the others."

The men untied Louise and carried her out of the room. Olga pulled and tugged angrily at her bonds, but it was in vain. She was now alone in the room with Takis. He pulled out a jackknife and some brass knuckles and grinned at her.

"All right, bitch," he said in English, put the brass knuckles over the fingers of his right hand and opened the jackknife, "let's have a little chat."

**-0-**

Alison had followed trail of the van until she'd reached the gate of Takis Manolakas' property. She now knew for sure that it was him who'd ordered his men to abduct Olga and Louise because he thought they were Alison and Catherine, which meant that she and Louise were in acute mortal danger.

Alison was aware of the fact that she'd already stepped into view of the infrared surveillance cameras. But knowing that there was no time to lose, she decided to go into full Terminator mode and do a frontal assault. She started with the massive, heavyweight steel gate, kicking it repeatedly. At first it only dented, then it jumped out of its track. With a final kick, it was blown out of its mount and fell down. Now at the latest, the entire complex was alerted to her presence. She took the Glock out of the hem of her shorts, stoically stepped over the steel gate - which was now lying on the ground – and entered the premises.

There was a lot of shouting, and spotlights and flashlights shone in her direction as the guards rushed towards her. Alison walked steadily and unfazed in her determined Terminator mode, scanning and targeting her victims within her HUD, sorting them into the most efficient shooting order, then emptied her first magazine with its seventeen rounds in quick succession. Each bullet hit its target – preferably a guard's head - as they charged at her, causing them to drop like flies. Fire was quickly returned at her, but naturally it had no effect on her and didn't slow her down a bit.

She needed a few seconds to insert the second magazine. In that time, some of the guards had surrounded her and tried to bring her down. She drove her left fist through one man's thorax, killed another by kicking him so hard in the chest that he flew almost fifty yards through the air, smashed one's head on the ground, and killed two more men with a roundhouse kick that broke their necks. After less than ten seconds, she could resume walking. There was darkness and chaos, and the incoming guards from all over the property couldn't see what had happened to their comrades closer to the gate. Alison quickly emptied her second magazine, killing another seventeen men, then pushed the third, final one into the shaft of the now steaming hot Glock.

She scanned the vicinity, including the beach, and noted that with thirty-nine guards dead, there were no more of them outside. Satisfied, she resumed her walk and reached the house, still following Louise's and Olga's pheromone trail. It ended in front of a bookshelf inside a study. Two more men charged at her, who'd obviously waited inside the house, but they also ended up with a bullet in their heads.

Alison scanned the bookshelf. There was a hidden door behind it, very well crafted. She ripped the wooden shelves off the wall, causing hundreds of books to fall to the ground. Scanning for the opening mechanism, she quickly realized that it would be faster not to bother with it. The door consisted of a steel frame that was filled up with brickwork. She rammed her fist through the bricks, grabbed the steel frame and ripped it out of its hinges. A cloud of dust and debris began to fill the air as the door landed on a seating area. Behind the now gaping hole in the wall, a stairwell led down into a hidden basement level. Obviously, this part of the house was not even known to John Henry.

Alison didn't hesitate and walked down the stairs.

* * *

Olga was in a bad shape. She had lacerations on her face, all her front teeth were missing, her jaw was broken, one eye was severely swollen, and her body was covered with blood due to various cuts on her upper body and legs. She was missing an earlobe, part of her nose, and one nipple. In only fifteen minutes, Takis Manolakas had mutilated her entire body beyond recognition, only because Olga didn't answer his questions – which of course she couldn't because she knew nothing of Catherine's plan.

Her inability to answer him, or – from his point of view – stubbornness not to do so, had made him furious and driven him into a kind of violent frenzy. Takis was breathing heavily as he finally pulled the bloodstained brass knuckles from his fingers. At this point, Olga was barely alive. Her breathing was flat and raspy, her screams of pain had long turned into a feeble wheezing and moaning. However, her one, still-open eye still stared at him defiantly when suddenly shouts and gunshots could be heard from the hallway outside the room.

Olga looked at him with a glimpse of triumph on her beaten face because she knew she was going to be rescued now, then succumbed to her injuries and fainted. The shooting in the hallway died down and for a brief moment, there was silence. Takis listened intently. Then the door to the room flew out of its hinges, hitting him in the face and sending him to the ground.

Alison entered the room and immediately grasped the situation. Her eyes glowed bright red with rage, then she bent over Olga to infuse her with a large number of nanobots before freeing her from the ties. Next, she turned to Takis, who was rolling on the floor moaning. She grabbed his arm, pulled him up so brutally that his shoulder was dislocated, and held him in the air in front of her. He screamed in pain like a banshee.

"Where is Louise? Where is the other girl?" she asked coldly.

Takis stared at her and suddenly realized that this was the one he was actually looking for. Comprehension, however, came too late.

"It's you," he said with a grimacing face, "she told the truth after all, she… AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Alison pulled at his arm.

"I said… where… is… Louise?"

"They took her somewhere," Olga said weakly - she was now awake and her body already in the process of healing and recovering, "they injected her with some kind of drug and carried her out of the room. I couldn't understand what they were saying, they spoke in Greek."

Takis stared at Olga in disbelief as all the wounds on her body closed rapidly, the swellings quickly disappearing. With a cracking sound that made her moan in pain, Olga's jaw snapped back into the right position and healed, and her earlobe, nose, nipple, and teeth magically grew back as well. She rose and stood beside Alison. Both girls were covered in blood, Olga by her own, Alison by the blood of others.

Olga pulled the Glock from Alison's waistband and pointed it at the right leg of Takis Manolakas, who was still held up by Alison, dangling from his dislocated arm. She pulled the trigger, and the bullet smashed his knee. He cried out in pain again.

"She asked you a question," Olga said in a strangely cold tone. "Where is Louise?"

"Never mind," Alison said, "I'll find her by her scent. Can you watch over him while I'm gone and resist the urge to kill him?"

"Sure. But can I hurt him? Just a little?"

Alison let him fall to the floor, causing him to scream in agony once again.

"Feel free. But don't waste all the bullets on him, there are only five left."

"I want to give him a taste of his own medicine," Olga replied and shot into Takis' left knee as well.

Again, he screamed like a banshee.

"Olga!"

"What? I only made sure he can't get away."

"Try to behave while I'm looking for Louise, okay?"

"I can't promise anything."

Alison rolled her eyes and left the room. While Takis Manolakas was writhing on the floor in agony, Olga looked down on herself and sniffed.

"Eew, gross... I totally reek of blood. Suppose I better take a shower before we get out of here. I wish I knew where my clothes are. Tell you what, mister torturer, you tell me where you put my clothes, and in return, I won't shoot you in the balls. What do you say?"

* * *

Alison followed Louise's scent further down the corridor, stepping over the dead bodies of the guards she'd killed, until she came to another locked door. With a push of her flat hand it was catapulted out of its hinges. What Alison saw inside the big room, stunned her. On each side of the room ten hospital beds were lined up next to each other, making it twenty in total. In each bed lay a naked young woman, connected to an I.V. bag. A monitor next to every bed showed the respective pulse rate. Alison immediately recognized that the young, throughout attractive women had been put into an artificial coma. And in one of the beds lay Louise.

At the other end of the elongated room was a desk and Alison noticed that someone was hiding behind it - a man in a white coat, shaking with fear, his pulse racing like crazy.

"I know you're there," she said loudly, "I can see you. Come out with your hands above your head and you won't be harmed."

"Don't shoot!" the man called out in a trembling voice. "Please, I'm unarmed."

"I'm not going to hurt you if you don't do anything stupid. Come out from behind the desk already, it wouldn't protect you anyway."

Slowly, the men rose, his hands high up in the air. He gulped when he saw Alison's blood-stained clothes and arms.

"Who are you?"

"My… my name is Dr Nikos Kazantzakis."

"What is this room?"

"I… Mr. Manolakas has forbidden me to talk about it. He would kill me."

"I'd be surprised if he would still be a threat to you in any way. Right now, the sands are quickly running out for him. Unless you want to end up like him, I suggest you talk."

"Okay… okay… this, is the hub."

"The hub?"

"Yes, a storage facility before shipping the merchandise."

"Merchandise? You mean these women?"

"Yes."

"So… this is about human trafficking?"

"Uh… yes. These unfortunate women were all tourists traveling alone. Most of them wanted to explore the world with as little money as possible between the end of their schooldays and the beginning of their college studies. They were, uh, picked up all over Europe and then brought here. They're being, uh… stored here before they're loaded onto a cargo ship bound for the Arabian Peninsula. If they're still virgins, they'll be auctioned off to the highest bidder. The rest will be turned into drug addicts and sent into forced prostitution."

"That's disgusting."

"I… I know it is."

"Then why are you helping them with it?"

"I had no choice. I used to be a local physician, but I got into financial trouble. Takis Manolakas offered me a loan. I accepted without thinking about it. Now I owe him a lot of money, and he forced me to work here. But at least my family is well provided for. If I had refused to work for him, they would have suffered. I'm ashamed of what I have to do to the girls, but the well-being of my family is more important to me."

Alison nodded. The man was telling the truth, which couldn't necessarily justify or excuse his actions.

"If you want to make it through the night alive, you will help me save these girls and erase all traces here."

"Who are you? And how do I know that I can believe or trust you? You're just another girl."

"I'm not a girl," Alison said, letting her eyes glow red.

"Jesus Christ! What are you?"

Before Alison could reply, they heard Takis Manolakas screaming, this time even louder than before. Alison turned around, ran back into the corridor, and re-entered the torture room. Dr Kazantzakis followed her, shocked by all the corpses in the hallway. They found Olga there, still naked, holding a bloody knife in her hand.

"What happened?" Alison asked

The doctor looked in shock at Olga's blood-stained naked body and at his boss who was writhing on the floor, screaming in agony.

"He threw this at me!" Olga replied, presenting the knife. "He'd hidden it in his clothes. Fortunately, your nanobots were still active, so I could pull it out and the wound closed again. As a punishment, I shot him in the balls. Son of a bitch!"

She shot him into his right shoulder. Again, he screamed.

"Give me the gun!" Alison commanded. "I don't like what you're becoming at the moment."

"You have no idea what I endured, Alison! You can't imagine the pain and the humiliation! Without you… I'd be… an ugly monster now! Besides, you're a killer cyborg, so what's your problem?"

"K… killer cyborg?" Takis Manolakas asked and tried to lift himself up, "I… should have… known it. How… stupid… of me."

"The problem is that you're being cruel, Olga," Alison said without paying attention to him, "and despite the fact that I was designed to be a killer cyborg, I wasn't made to be cruel."

Alison took back her gun and shot Takis Manolakas in the head. He collapsed dead on the floor.

"_That_ is how a Terminator kills. Quick and painless."

The two heard a dull thud behind them and turned around. Dr Kazantzakis had fainted and fallen to the ground.

"Who is he?" Olga asked.

"He works here. Apparently, his nerves aren't that strong."

"Have you found Louise?"

"Yes, she's in an artificial coma in a room down the corridor, together with nineteen other young women."

"What!? Is she okay? What the hell is going on here?"

"Louise will be okay, and I'll explain everything in a moment, but I have to inform the others first. We need help here."

She pulled out her cellphone and dialed a number.

"John? … Yes, I found them, both are well, but things turned out to be much more complicated than we thought ... I know. Listen, I need Cam and Emily here ... Yes, only them … Tell them to come here with the Rising Star's tender and all the C4 we have on board … I know how that sounds but trust me, please … Tell Derek to shut up … Thank you … No, we need the big tender, we have twenty-three people to transport out of here … I'll explain everything once I'm back … Love you too … bye!"

* * *

In the following hour, Alison was busy collecting all the corpses and carrying them down into the torture room where she piled them up next to their dead boss. Meanwhile, Olga had found her clothes in a wardrobe next to the hospital beds, together with the clothes of all other women down there. She'd also taken a shower, then sat next to the bed with the unconscious Louise in it and held her hand while she waited for Alison to finish her work.

The plan was to move all the young women out of the compound through the underground caves where the laboratory was. Emily and Cameron would use the _Rising Star's_ large tender and meet with them in the smuggler's cave with the jetty and the hidden door. The three cyborgs would then put clothes on the unconscious girls and carry them onto the tender. Alison would make sure they woke up from their coma in one hour, after they'd been dropped off on a beach near Heraklion.

No sooner said than done! When everyone had been loaded onto the tender, including Dr Kazantzakis, Alison, Cameron, and Emily set up explosive charges with remote detonators all over the property, the lab, and the hidden underground level, then poured petrol everywhere as an accelerant. At the very end, Alison also carried the body of Takis Manolakas down into the cave.

"What are you gonna do with it?" Emily asked.

"I want to leave a message," Alison replied and carried the body into the dungeon cave.

There she took off Takis' clothes and then tied the arms and legs to the leather straps of the big wooden cross, making it look as if he had been crucified.

"Very original," Cameron commented. "But will this room survive the explosion?"

"Yes, we'll only blow up the lab. The fire won't spread down here from above."

* * *

When they finally left the cave in the tender, nobody spoke a word. Once they were five hundred meters away from the shore, Alison pushed the remote detonator. There was a series of muffled explosions, then the whole place went up in flames. From out at sea, they watched the fire engulf all buildings on the small peninsula as they slowly made their way back to Heraklion.

"Won't this fire raise a lot of questions and make headlines?" Olga asked thoughtfully in Russian, so that Dr Kazantzakis couldn't understand her.

"Definitely," Alison replied, also in Russian, "but by the time the rescue workers get down to the basement and come across the charred bodies, the _Rising Star_ will be through the Suez Canal. It'll be a mystery to the authorities, but the link between the sudden reappearance of the girls and Takis Manolakas' human trafficking business will be established relatively quickly."

"What about the doctor?"

"I'll make him forget about us and everything that really happened. I just have to ask John for permission to use my chemical messengers on him."

Olga fell silent for a moment.

"Please don't tell anyone what happened to me there," she then said. "especially not Louise."

"Are you referring to the fact that you were brutally tortured, or that you paid back Takis Manolakas in kind for it?"

"The latter. You were right, I wasn't myself. I was on an adrenaline high or something. I didn't think, I only wanted to make him suffer."

"My lips are sealed, and so are those of Emily and Cam. Right?"

"Did you say something, sis?" Cameron asked.

"We didn't hear anything," Emily added.

Olga smiled broadly.

"Thank you, you're true friends."

**-0-**

**Tuesday,** **January 27th, 2009 – 08:14 a.m.**

**Heraklion**

When Louise opened her eyes, sunlight fell through the window of their bedroom. Why was she suddenly back on board the Rising Star? Hadn't she been… damn, she had a headache, remembering was difficult and hurtful.

"Are you finally awake, sleepy-head?"

"Olga?"

"Who else?"

"What… how… weren't we…?"

"Try to form a coherent sentence, then I might understand what you wanna tell me. Come on, I know you can do it."

"I… can't seem to remember… what… why…?"

Olga sighed.

"Yeah, Alison said this might happen after you got zapped with the taser."

"Taser?"

"Yes, don't you remember? We jogged back to the harbor, and then two men tried to kidnap us."

"Kidnap? No… I… think… I remember our run and… wait… there was an electric shock, wasn't there?"

"Yeah, you got zapped by two tasers. Alison jumped in just in time, though. They must have thought I was her and wanted to kidnap us. You were completely out until now."

"Really?"

"Yeah, come on, get up, take a shower, breakfast is ready."

"I… I'm not hungry… as a matter of fact, I'm feeling a little sick. Like having a hangover. I… think I'm gonna stay in bed a little longer."

"Suit yourself, but I'm off to deck two now. You can join us later when you're feeling better."

Louise smiled weakly.

"Okay… see you later."

* * *

Olga entered the big salon on deck two where everyone else was gathered.

"And?" Sarah asked. "Does she remember anything?"

"Nope," Olga replied, "a blank sheet."

"Thank God," Emily said, sounding genuinely relieved. "I don't know what would have happened if she'd remembered the abduction. She's just overcome her trauma, a new one would probably have thrown her completely over the cliff."

"Okay, so much for Louise," Sarah said, "what about you, Olga? How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. It doesn't feel so bad in retrospect. At a certain point, I stopped feeling the pain. Too much adrenaline, I guess. And I didn't have to look at myself in the mirror. That helped, too."

"I took a picture, wanna see?" Alison asked.

"What!? You're joking, right?"

"Yeah, just kidding."

"Not funny, Alison. Not funny at all."

"Joking aside, the trauma will come, believe me," Anne intervened. "Not right away, but it will come. When you least expect it. All it takes is a trigger... the sight of blood, a knife, a chair, or an empty room..."

"Thanks for the motivational speech, Anne," Derek said sourly, then turned to look at Olga. "She's right, though. I've been tortured before as well." He avoided looking at Cameron. "It takes time to get over it."

"I scanned Olga thoroughly," Alison argued, "and I couldn't detect any sign or portent of a trauma. She was right, she was full of adrenaline, and I guess her experience in Saint Petersburg helped a lot, as well as the knowledge that she would be rescued and healed. But I think my nanobots are mostly responsible for her not having any lasting side-effects. They make sure there will be no scars on the outside as well as the inside."

"What? You mean, those little metal machines in my blood stream keep me from freaking out?"

"They're not made from metal but from graphene, an allotrope of carbon. But yes, they control the chemical balance of your body. As long as you have them inside you, there should be no negative aftereffects of the torture."

"How long do they have to remain inside me?"

"I don't know, we'll have to see. Maybe weeks, maybe months… or even longer. During that time, you will neither age nor get sick, and wounds will heal immediately."

"So… basically I'm like Catherine II now?"

"Basically, yes."

"I'm gonna have to digest that."

"All right, Louise and Olga are fine," said John, "that's nice. Let's talk about Takis Manolakas. Wasn't he a billionaire? Why would someone like him traffic in young women?"

"I'm afraid we'll never know for sure," Alison replied. "Perhaps he succumbed to the thrill of doing something illegal and getting away with it, or it was the temptation to have power over others, of being a master of life and death. After all, he had a dungeon installed down in those caves. Or perhaps his interest was more profane and his trafficking in girls served to ensure the loyalty and support of his business partners in the Middle East? Only one thing is certain: Takis Manolakas was a thoroughly despicable, sadistic, and abusive scoundrel. A first-class villain, even worse than Blofeld."

"Couldn't agree more," Olga added. "That guy was nuts. And his death was a fitting one."

"Oh? How exactly did he die?" Sarah asked with a frown.

"Oh, um… he was in pain for a while because Alison dislocated his shoulder when she picked him up from the ground."

"I put a bullet to his head to end his suffering," Alison added.

"I see," John said, having the feeling that the two were keeping something from them. "Anyway, what's done is done, and it looks like we got away with it… again. I already informed Catherine about the latest development. She was surprised to learn about Manolakas' illegal business. It's something John Henry didn't know either. Obviously, he isn't omniscient after all. She wasn't too thrilled to hear about the man's death, but then again, maybe it really is for the best. He'd found out about us, so let's hope he hadn't forwarded his knowledge yet."

"If he has, we'll know soon," Derek stated grimly.

"We need to talk about the elephant in the room," Savannah said.

"Which is?" John asked with a frown.

"Olga."

Everyone looked at the Russian model.

"What about me?" she asked.

"For the second time, you were kidnapped because somebody thought you were Alison," Savannah explained. "And this time, your life really was in danger and you were brutally tortured. Thank God we were able to save you. This time. What if it happens again and we're not around?"

"As I said," Alison stated, "She's now carrying my nanobots. They'll protect her from injuries indefinitely."

"Sure, and if anyone notices that, she'll become a medical sensation," Sarah added. "Not what we want."

"It's a chance we have to take," John said, "we can't keep her with us for the rest of the journey."

"I wouldn't mind staying with you," Olga said, "but I've been booked for photo shoots and would lose a lot of money and reputation if I don't show up in Saint Petersburg again anytime soon."

"But you must be aware that your resemblance with Alison will continue to be a serious threat for you," Emily pointed out. "And we won't be there to protect you. You'd be on your own."

"Well, it's not like I have many choices, is it?" Olga asked with a hint of frustration in her voice.

"As I see it, there are only two alternatives," Anne stated, "Alison can either change the way you look, so that you can start a new life…"

"… which is absolutely out of the question," Olga declared resolutely. "I don't want to be transformed."

"… or you stay with us until the danger is over."

"Which will be when?"

"Nobody knows," John answered truthfully.

"Also unacceptable. I have a life, a career, friends, my dog Gucci… I'd have to give all that up if I were to stay with you. Besides, I don't see any guilt on my part. So why should it be me who pays for the fact that a living computer in the future used my body as a model for one of its killing machines!?"

"May I remind you that your stay with us results from the fact that you snuck aboard as a stowaway, on the grounds that you wanted to experience adventures? Well, now you've had an adventure. Do you regret your decision to come with us?"

Olga looked down.

"I don't regret accompanying you on your journey," she finally said. "I've grown to like you all very much. But that doesn't mean I want to give up my life."

"Maybe there is a middle way," John suggested.

"What middle way?" Sarah asked.

"I have an idea. Say, Olga, how many photo shoots do you have to do in the next three months?"

She thought for a moment.

"Fifteen," she then replied. "No, sixteen! Nine for swimwear, three for an energy drink manufacturer, and four for a Russian fashion label."

"How about inviting the photographers on board? I mean, can you think of a better place for a photo shoot than this yacht in all the exotic places we'll visit?"

Everyone stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"Seriously, John?" Derek asked. "Didn't we agree on keeping a low profile and avoiding any attention?"

John shrugged.

"The cat's already out of the bag. Expect more paparazzi awaiting us at our next destination. We should therefore make a virtue of necessity. Not only would it explain Olga's stay on board, it would also distract from us. Maybe we can even make people believe that all the pretty girls on board are also models."

"You can't be serious, John!" Derek exclaimed.

"Actually, that's not such a bad idea," Sarah replied. "It would give our trip a logical explanation for curious snoops." She looked at Olga. "Would that be an option for you?"

The Russian model seemed intrigued.

"I'd have to check with the modeling agency and talk to the photographers too," she said. "Can I assume you'll cover all expenses?"

"After what you went through last night, it's the least we can do," John confirmed. "And I'm sure Isaak won't mind if we use his yacht for this."

"Then I'm quite sure I can arrange it. But expect to wear clothes while the photographers are on board with their crews."

"I think we'll be able to manage that," Charley said before any of the women could protest. "Am I right, babe?"

Sarah smiled at him.

"It'll be hard, especially as it'll get warmer as we go further south - but I think we can make that sacrifice."

"What about accommodation?" Jesse asked. "Can we still house guests?"

"I'm sure we'll find enough room," Sarah replied with a glance at John. "We may have to move a little closer together, won't we?"

Her remark didn't go unnoticed by the others and everyone looked at John.

"Uh… yes, um.. I suppose," he stuttered. "Savannah and Allie can move in with us, which leaves one suite unoccupied."

Everyone present exchanged meaningful looks. The aforementioned women beamed at him.

"Very well then," Sarah said, "let's prepare to leave Crete."

**-0-**

**Tuesday,** **January 27th, 2009 – 01:21 p.m.**

**New Delhi**

Mahesh Bokhari, the CEO of India's largest steel company, returned to his office after a business lunch with some of his friends. He took place at his desk just in time to hear his phone ringing.

"Yes?"

"_Brother Mahesh."_

"Brother Steven. What an unexpected pleasure."

"_I'm afraid I bring bad news, though."_

Bokhari sighed.

"What now?"

"_Brother Takis' property on Crete was completely destroyed in a fire last night."_

"What about the lab?"

"_We don't know yet."_

"Is Brother Takis all right?"

"_We don't know yet either. Nobody has seen him since a party yesterday. But I fear the worst."_

"Why?"

"_Because the police found evidence of gunfire on the property. Lots of empty shell casings and blood. It looks like an army invaded the place after crashing down the steel gate."_

"An army?"

"_Not my words but of the local police. There's no other way to describe it." _

"Good God. Are there many casualties?"

"_That's the thing, there weren't any bodies. Or at least they haven't found any bodies yet. The fire brigade has just finished its work, the search for corpses starts now. The domestic staff was already questioned but they weren't present. After the party yesterday, Brother Takis gave everyone but the security personnel the day off. When they returned for work in the morning, their workplace was no longer there."_

"From your description, I deduce that it was arson."

_"Well, the neighbors heard a series of explosions before the fire started, so yes, it's safe to assume that the fire didn't start because someone forgot to turn off an iron. It also supports the 'small army' scenario."_

"You sound doubtful, though. Do you think it was the opposition?"

"_It was my first thought. So, I had our agents do a little research. Isaak Sirko's yacht 'Rising Star' is currently on a world tour. Apparently, she wasn't chartered but made available to a group of friends and acquaintances. Yesterday she was anchored in Heraklion. And before that, she was in Venice, right at the time when Brother Jonas was killed. Coincidence? I don't think so."_

"You think _they_ are on board? The cyborgs, I mean?"

"_It would explain the bloodbath on Brother Takis' property. What the police thinks could have been a small army, could in fact have been three female cyborgs."_

"Good God. Do you think it was an act of revenge for Catherine Weaver's death?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

"_Brother Mahesh, there's something you should know. Catherine Weaver is still alive, the attempt on her life failed."_

"But you said…"

_"I know. I have no idea how or why the attempted murder failed. But our agents saw Catherine Weaver entering her office yesterday around noon, and the assassin's guild is giving me hell right now. Apparently, their assassin was killed by a car bomb immediately after the assassination attempt. At first they thought it was us. I had a hard time convincing them that we had nothing to do with it, and I think they believe me, otherwise we wouldn't be talking right now. Should I tell them to make another attempt?"_

"No, the opposition is warned now. We have to rethink our strategy. Tell them the job's canceled."

"_As you wish. But it's the first time in the history of their guild that an assassination attempt has failed. They won't like it."_

"I don't care if they don't like it. Pay them in full and add a bonus. That should be enough compensation for a bruised ego."

"_Consider it done."_

"If we assume the opposition was responsible for the attack on Brother Takis, we also have to assume that he is dead, and that the lab was destroyed."

"_I know."_

"You know what that means, right? Open war. All our lives are in danger."

"_I'm aware of that. We need to strike back."_

"How?"

"_Sink the ship."_

"The _Rising Star_?"

"_Yes. Destroy it with everyone on board."_

"Do we have the necessary forces in the area?"

"_Not yet. But the yacht will soon enter waters where we have."_

"I don't want to decide this spontaneously under the impression of the deaths of our brothers. I need time to think it over and want to make the decision with a clear head. How long until the _Rising Star_ reaches waters where we can attack her?"

"_If she follows the route that was submitted to the port authorities, in two weeks. I'd suggest the coast off Somalia, where we can make it look like a pirate attack."_

"As I said, I need time to think about it. This is starting to get out of hand, and I don't want any more bloodshed in our ranks. We must first find a new meeting place and hold a general assembly there. We are now only 48 members, assuming that Brother Takis is dead, and it doesn't look as if we can fill up our ranks again quickly."

"_It'll take more than two weeks to organize a full assembly. We don't have so much time."_

Bokhari sighed.

"You're right. Okay, I'm calling a leadership meeting of the top five brothers for the day after tomorrow. Only small scale, here at my office. There we can discuss our next steps."

_"As you wish. But just in case, shall I make the necessary preparations for our next strike? These things require advance planning."_

"Do it. But no unauthorized action, do you understand?"

"_Of course, Brother Mahesh."_

"I'll talk to you later."

"_All right, Bye."_

Mahesh Bokhari hung up and leaned back with a moan in his comfortable leather chair. This whole situation became more and more time-consuming and wasted more and more resources every day. He took off his glasses, covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes. Suddenly, there was a strange, metallic slurping noise. He reached for his glasses and put them back on.

"It seems there's still a spark of sanity in you after all," said Catherine Weaver, who suddenly stood in front of his desk.

"What the fuck?" Bokhari exclaimed in shock.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that it sounds absolutely ridiculous when grown men refer to each other as _'brothers'_ without being related, or being members of a monastery?"

Mahesh Bokhari quickly opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a gun. Catherine sighed.

"Don't make the same mistake Jonas Masina made. Or you'll suffer the same fate."

Bokhari pointed the gun at her with a trembling hand but didn't pull the trigger.

"How… how did you… get in here?"

"First put down the gun, then we can talk. After all, we're both civilized people."

"How do I know you're not here to kill me as well?"

"Because if I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead. I'm not here to get revenge for your feeble attempt on my life."

Mahesh Bokhari thought it over for a moment, then put the gun back into the drawer.

"You wouldn't get away with killing me. You're far from Los Angeles, Ms Weaver, you're in my home town now."

"You'd be amazed what I've gotten away with so far."

"What do you want?"

"To talk with you. I have the faint but not entirely unjustified hope that we can settle our dispute without spilling any more blood."

"You started that dispute. We're only defending ourselves."

"You're defending your profits, there's a difference. You're not afraid of your lives but of your lifestyles. Your strategy is short-sighted, and your aims are dishonest, especially since you have no problem partaking in illegal activities. I, on the other hand, am pursuing a much larger plan, namely to ensure the survival of mankind."

Bokhari laughed scornfully.

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

He scoffed.

"Aren't you a benefactress… You'll be walking over dead bodies on your way to a better future for mankind."

"Only when I'm challenged by organizations that are in bed with the Mafia or engage in human trafficking."

Bokhari frowned.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Don't tell me you weren't informed of Masina's dealings with the Mala del Brenta. He was about to take over the Venice real estate market by force with their help."

"We don't always like what our members do, but we can't stop them. However, I can't imagine anyone being involved in human trafficking."

"Then let me bring you some enlightenment. Your _'brother'_ Takis Manolakas mistakenly kidnapped two of my friends, both young women. One he brutally tortured, the other was to be shipped to the Middle East with nineteen other girls he'd kept in a secret basement level of his home in Crete. Thankfully, we were able to free them all."

"Are you going to tell me that the fire last night was part of a rescue operation?"

"There is an old proverb: He who sows the wind shall reap the whirlwind. Takis Manolakas has reaped the firestorm for his deeds."

The coldness with which Catherine Weaver presented these things to him, didn't leave Mahesh Bokhari unimpressed. As she talked about it, her expression had hardened. She was no longer the charming and eloquent businesswoman, but suddenly had the aura of an ice-cold killer. He shivered involuntarily.

"So… I assume that Takis Manolakas is dead now?"

"Yes. And his dirty business will soon come to light, which will put his work into a completely new perspective. If you still have a spark of decency in you, you'll be glad to know that he's no longer in your ranks."

"Maybe. Our intelligence will check on that. You say he kidnapped two of your friends. May I ask what your friends were doing there in the first place? He must have had a reason for that."

"Let's just say we got us some insurance. It has to do with why I'm here."

"And why are you here?"

"I'm here to make you an offer. We'll leave your organization alone, and you leave my organization alone. You keep your knowledge of us to yourself, and we'll keep our knowledge of your brotherhood to ourselves. We know all about you and your dirty businesses, but quite frankly, we couldn't care less about it – unless it gets in our way."

"That sounds more like a threat than a proposal. Why should we even consider it?"

"Because you have more to lose than us."

"I don't know, from my perspective it looks like we both have a lot to lose here. So why threaten us?"

"Because people like you normally won't learn unless they have to fear severe consequences."

Mahesh Bokhari leaned back in his chair and put the tips of his fingers together.

"Humor me," he said, "what kind of consequences are you talking about?"

"You surely learned by now that Masina S.p.A. is now part of Zeira Corp?"

Bokhari frowned.

"Yes, although nobody has been able to find out how you pulled that off. Because we both know that Masina didn't simply sell his company to you, did he?"

"Indeed, he didn't. But as you have looked into it, you will have also realized how iron-clad the deal is. Now, let's assume for a moment you keep on attacking us, trying to sink my husband's yacht for instance or other pointless activities."

"You listened to my phone call!"

"Of course. My hearing is exceptional. By the way, it looks like your intelligence work is top notch, congratulations. Steven Rogers surely has some resources. But mine are better. Much better."

"What do you mean?"

"I cracked your silly encryption and know everything there is to know about your _51 Society_. I know the CVs, backgrounds, likes, dislikes of all your members. I even know how many times a day they go to the bathroom and what little aches and pains they have, not to mention the many skeletons in the closet. You, for example, kidnapped a young woman as a teenager together with friends and raped her several times. Due to your father's influence, you got off scot-free and all records of the deed were erased. Or so you thought."

Bokhari turned visibly pale.

"Or your friend Steven Rogers. What do you think U.S. authorities will say when they discover he's involved in illegal arms deals with countries like Iran, North Korea or Cuba?"

Bokhari just stared at her. It slowly seemed to dawn on him that this woman did indeed have him and all the members of the _51 Society_ in the palm of her hand.

"Don't worry," Catherine continued, "your secrets are safe with me… as long as you stop attacking us."

"Blackmail is never a good foundation for a deal, not to mention trust."

"Trust is irrelevant. I want you to know about the consequences if you continue to harass me. Just in case I shouldn't have impressed you enough, I have the power to entirely ruin each and every one of you. The modern world is dependent on computers. You saw what I was able to do with Masina S.p.A., I could do even worse to your companies, I could drive them into ruin from one day to the other."

Bokhari gulped.

"But let's take that thought a little further. Let's assume for a moment that ruining your reputation and going bankrupt isn't enough to impress you. In that unlikely case, there is one final scenario. You see, we paid a visit to Takis Manolakas' lab yesterday - oh yes, we know about the lab and the blood that was stored there. We now have DNA sampled from all of your members."

Bokhari suddenly had a sense of foreboding.

"Where are you getting at?"

"It's best if I demonstrate. Would you call in your secretary, please?"

"What?"

"Call in your secretary. It's a simple enough task."

Mahesh Bokhari bent forward and pressed a button on the intercom.

"Nala, come in, please."

"Yes, Mr. Bokhari."

Seconds later the door opened and a pretty young woman in a red sari came in. She hesitated and stopped when she saw the red-haired woman sitting opposite of her boss's desk.

"Oh, don't mind me, dear," Catherine said, "close the door, come here, stand next to me."

The secretary, Nala, looked at her boss. He nodded. She closed the door and walked up to Catherine.

"I know that you two are having an affair and that you, Mahesh, are thinking of a way of ending it because it's starting to threaten your marriage."

"What?" Nala asked in shock.

"Don't believe her!" Mahesh said quickly but not convincingly enough.

"You know the truth, child, don't you?" Catherine asked. "You've been suspecting it for some time."

"I… I…"

"But don't worry, Mahesh, I'm here to solve this little problem for you."

Catherine produced a small perfume bottle, grabbed Nala's hand and sprayed some of the liquid onto it.

"Hey," the young woman complained, "what are you doing?"

"Bio research is a fascinating subject," Catherine elaborated, "this bottle for instance contains a pathogen that can only be transmitted through skin. For the moment at least. A friend prepared it for me. It works extremely fast, as you shall see in a moment." She turned towards Nala. "Don't worry, my dear, the process is completely painless."

"What do you mean? Wha… I… don't feels so… uh…"

Nala began to sweat more and more. She gasped.

"Wha... what is... happening to mmmmlllllllffff..."

The skin and the tissue of her face began to melt like ice cream in the sun. It flowed down her body, only leaving her bare skull. The rest of her flesh also liquefied, forming a large, reddish puddle on the carpet, which then turned into what looked like clear water. In the end, all of her body tissue had liquefied. The remaining skeleton could no longer withstand gravity and collapsed, leaving a pile of clean bones and hair on the floor, covered by a red sari.

To say that Mahesh Bokhari looked shocked, was an understatement. As a matter of fact, he jumped up from his chair and screamed as he watched his lover and secretary literally melt away in front of his eyes.

"This version of the pathogen is a universal one," Catherine explained. "It works with every human being. It dissolves in seconds when exposed to air, so it poses no threat as long as it's not applied directly to the skin, like in Nala's case. The process, as you have seen, is quick and painless. Before the victim realizes what's happening, it's over."

"YOU… YOU MONSTER!" Mahesh Bokhari yelled at her. "Why did you do that?"

"I regret that I had to do this. If it calms you, she was preparing to blackmail you. Also, I had to convince you that I'm not making idle threats. This pathogen dissolves tissue in seconds and converts it into water. All that remains are bones, hair, and nails."

He kept staring at the pile of bones that used to be his secretary before looking back at Catherine. She picked up Nala's bare skull and held it in front of her with an outstretched arm.

"To be or not to be," she said theatrically, "that is the question…"

"STOP IT!"

"Calm down, Mahesh. Sit!"

Beaten, Bokhari let himself fall back into his chair. Catherine put the skull back down.

"Now that you've seen what it can do," she continued and unscrewed the bottle, "I'm gonna destroy it. After all, we don't want anyone else to die from it, do we?"

She poured the liquid onto the floor where it evaporated immediately.

"You see," she then continued, "this was just a simple version for demonstration. However, the final version is programmable to a certain DNA. That means it only works with people who match that particular DNA. And in contrast to this one, it won't be painless. It also will be airborne and remain in the atmosphere for decades before it finally decays. Can you follow me, Mahesh?"

He just stared at her, looking as pale as a corpse.

"As I said, we now have samples of the DNA of all members of your _51 Society_. If you can't be convinced to stop your silly war on us, tons of it will be released into the atmosphere from aircraft close to where each of you live, programmed to only work with _your_ DNA. Nobody else will be affected. If you breathe in only a few particles of it, they will multiply, and you'll end up like poor Nala here within a few hours. Can you still follow me?"

Bokhari gritted his teeth in repressed anger.

"I guess you made your point."

"I'm counting on you to call off your minions and suspend all activities against us. In return, we will leave you alone as well, as long as you don't cross our path, that is. If you violate the agreement, the first step will be to wash you and your '_brothers'_' dirty laundry in public. Should there be a second violation, we will destroy your material existence. And if that still isn't enough, we will release the pathogen into the atmosphere. Any questions?"

"Only one," he replied, reached into his drawer, and produced the gun again. "What keeps me from having the satisfaction to kill you right here and now?"

Catherine smirked.

"The same thing that kept Jonas Masina from doing so," she replied, turned her right arm into a pointed lance and impaled it with lightning speed into the head rest of his leather chair, missing his left ear only by an inch.

He cried out in shock and let is gun fall.

"You're under the illusion that you're talking to me from a position of strength," said Catherine with a piercing stare. "But you're weak and fragile. I can be close to you without you noticing, I can take any form, human, animal or object."

Bokhari opened and closed his mouth a couple of times but no sound came out.

"I was never here, this conversation never happened," Catherine continued in her icy tone. "You won't share what you saw and heard today with anyone. Nod if you understand."

The man nodded hastily.

"Withdraw your spies, cease surveillance on me and leave the _Rising Star_ alone. Inform your brothers. If they have any questions, simply say you negotiated a truce without giving details. Make it clear to them that a violation of the truce would have further fatal consequences for your brotherhood and that further bloodshed must be avoided, even if you lose money in the process. Always remember that envy, malice, greed, wrath, and vanity are deadly sins that can actually result in death in your case. I hope I made myself clear."

Again, he nodded vigorously.

"Good," Catherine said and pulled her elongated arm lance out of the chair's headrest, turning it back into a hand. "Be on your guard. Because if you or your _'brothers'_ continue to plot against us, we will find out."

Then she morphed into liquid metal and took on the shape of the dead secretary in her red sari.

"I'm going to be around for a couple of days until you've met with your brothers," she announced in Nala's voice. "I understand that a secretarial position has just opened up in your office. Oh, and I'll get a container to remove these remains. A bucket and a broom should do. We don't want to scare the cleaning lady, do we?"

Not waiting for a reply, she walked out of the office, leaving a completely shaken, utterly intimidated and frightened man behind, who felt his pants getting wet with warm fluid from his bladder.

**-0-**

**Tuesday,** **January 27th, 2009 – 11:45 p.m.**

**The Mediterranean Sea, southeast of Crete**

They'd left Heraklion and were now on their way towards Alexandria, where they'd arrive in the early Wednesday morning hours. The plan was that they'd spend several days in Egypt, similar to the time they'd spent in St. Lucia. However, the _Rising Star_ wouldn't wait for them in Alexandria, she would go ahead, sail through the Suez Canal and then pick them up again at the Red Sea port of Hurghada, where the first of several photo shoots would happen.

After submitting the proposal to organize free photo shoots on board a mega yacht in warm climate, including paid travel for the photographers and their staff, Olga's model agency was hooked on the idea and almost all photographers agreed immediately. Three of them would fly directly to Hurghada, board the yacht and prepare for the arrival of the team.

In the meantime, the team would travel through Egypt, visit Alexandria, the Egyptian museum in Cairo, and of course the Pyramids of Giza and the Sphinx. Then they'd board a river cruise ship in Cairo and travel up the Nile to Luxor with it, where they'd visit the Valley of the Kings and Karnak. From there, they'd cross the desert to Hurghada in a bus.

* * *

Everyone had gone to bed, only in the suite of John and ACE was still activity. John sat cross-legged at the foot of his bed, his three wives kneeling on the floor in front of him, their eyes fixed on the front door. Candles were burning everywhere, giving the whole scene the appearance of a solemn ceremony.

There was a knock on the door to their suite.

"Enter!" John said loudly.

The door opened, and Savannah and Allie stepped in, closing the door behind them again. They entered the bedroom and looked around in amazement at the ceremonially decorated room.

"So," John said, "I've had time to consider your proposal. I've discussed it not only with my three wives, but also with my mother. They all encouraged me to accept your offer and to agree to a three-day trial period."

The two women beamed.

"That's great, John," Savannah said. "We…"

John lifted his hand and she stopped talking.

"I want you to listen to what I have to say first. Don't say anything unless I tell you to. When I'm finished, you may speak. Nod if you agree."

There was heavy nodding with a broad grin on their faces.

"First things first. On your knees!"

Savannah and Allie practically fell on their knees in front of him and ACE, looking up at him expectantly.

"Good. It goes without saying that what you have proposed requires a set of rules. There are two reasons for that. Firstly, to make it work at all, and secondly, so that we don't misunderstand each other. Before we begin, I want you to know that we'll establish a _safe phrase_. You have to use this safe phrase if anything happens that causes you discomfort and therefore want me to stop. Do you understand?"

Again, heavy nodding.

"The safe phrase is _'Judgement Day'_. Repeat."

"The safe phrase is _'Judgement Day'_," the two repeated in unison.

"When we are together in private, you will add my title at the end of each sentence, which is of course 'Master'. Try again."

"The safe phrase is _'Judgement Day'…_ Master," both repeated together.

"Excellent. Now… I have certain, shall we say, _preferences_ in women, especially in those who want to be my property. This involves minor changes in your physical appearance. Alison will now hand you a cup of liquefied nanobot gel. It isn't a requirement to drink it, I'm only _asking_ you to do it. The effect will last for the trial period, and if you decide to continue on this path after that, you can decide if you want it to be permanent or not. Don't worry about any side-effects, this time Alison made sure the nanobots will remain inactive after their work is done. They will make certain cosmetic changes to you. First of all, they'll permanently remove all body hair below your neck and apply a permanent makeup around your eyes and on your lips, so you won't have to do that manually anymore. Your hair, fingernails and toenails will stop growing. Your current age will be reset to twenty-one years. The nanobots will also remove all skin imperfections such as moles, birthmarks, and freckles, and smoothen your skin so that it's as silky and soft as the skin of my other three women. And then there are a few surprises as well, which you will discover yourself very soon."

John paused for effect and studied their faces. They gulped but said nothing. He looked at Alison and nodded. She rose, walked over to the bedside table, and fetched two plastic cups with a dark liquid, handing one to Allie and one to Savannah.

"Again, this is voluntarily and will have no effect on our relationship. If you agree to the changes I described, empty the cups now. If not, hand them back to Alison and we'll continue without it."

Savannah and Allie looked at each other, then emptied their cups in one go. John smiled.

"While we wait for the changes to take effect, I'll explain the rest of the rules to you. Rule number one: Any area and accommodation, indoors and outdoors, in which a maximum of the six of us are present, is from now on defined as a '_private area'_. As soon as someone else joins us, it is no longer a private area. In a private area, you are automatically my slaves and will behave accordingly. This makes you different from ACE, who will only behave as my slaves when I tell them to. Also, you will address me as _Master_ in a private area. It goes without saying that you have to be naked at any time in a private area, which is of course nothing new for you. Outside of a private area, you will behave as you have always behaved until now. You will no longer address me as Master but with my name, and you will no longer behave like submissive slaves. If you understood that all, then confirm it now."

"Yes, Master!" the two confirmed in unison. "We understand."

"Very good. Rule number two: Whenever I demand sexual services from you, you will provide them without hesitation. Also, you are free to engage in sexual activities with Cameron, Alison, and Emily, unless I want to have sex with you. I always come first, understood? Then answer me."

"Yes, Master! We understand."

"Rule number three: I expect absolute obedience. When I give you an order, you will obey it immediately and without hesitation. But there are exceptions. If you cannot reconcile something with your conscience, or if you think that the order could harm me, you, or my or your health and integrity, you may refuse to carry it out for the time being. But I'll expect you to give a good reason, and if the reason isn't sound enough to convince me, then you have to obey the order. Understood?"

"Yes, Master! We understand."

"Excellent. Rule number four: When the three days of trial are over, you have a choice. Either you remain my slaves, or you return to what you were before. Whatever your decision will be, it'll be final. Therefore, it shouldn't be made lightly. If you choose to remain my slaves, you will remain my slaves indefinitely. Consider it a contract. Should you break it, it'll be null and void and can't be reactivated. This means you can decide to end it and leave, you're not my prisoners after all. But if you do so, you can never come back."

Again, John pauses to let his words sink in.

"Should you decide _not_ to become my slaves after the trial period because you realized it's not what you wanted after all, then there won't be a second try. I will not allow you to be my slaves only when it suits you. That won't work. You're either completely in, or completely out. There will be no inbetween. Answer now if you understand and agree to these terms."

"Yes, Master! We understand and agree."

"Good. This morning, Cameron and I went shopping in Heraklion. It took some time to find what we were looking for but until I've been able to let the jeweler in Los Angeles make the same lockets for you that my three wives are wearing, these will have to do."

John reached behind himself and produced two small boxes. He opened up the first one and pulled out a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a silver number 4.

"Savannah, stand up."

She did so and he noticed that she seemed a little nervous.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

She nodded and smiled. He inspected her body and was satisfied with the result of the nanobots' work. Savannah looked visibly younger and her rather pale skin was now flawless.

"Right. This necklace is a symbol of your submission to me. The number 4 indicates that your slave name is from now on _Cunt Four_. Inside a private area, you will be only addressed by your slave name."

He put the necklace around her neck and fastened it.

"Kneel down again, Cunt Four. Allie, stand up."

Cunt Four knelt and Allie got up. John opened the second small box. It contained a similar necklace, only with a silver number 5 as a pendant. He inspected her body as well and was very satisfied with the result.

"This necklace is a symbol of your submission to me. The number 5 indicates that your slave name is from now on _Cunt Five_. Inside a private area, you will be only addressed by your slave name."

He put the necklace around her.

"Kneel again, Cunt Five."

After she'd done that, he looked down at them.

"Any comments or remarks from your side? Then now you may speak."

"I have nothing to say except thank you, Master," Cunt Four said. "I'm happy that you accept me as your slave."

"Yes, the same goes for me, Master," Cunt Five agreed. "I'm happy and content, now that I am your slave."

"Right. Then there's only one thing left to do," he stated with a grin. "A proper baptism. And I know you've been looking forward to this."

He pulled down his pants, freeing his erect dick. Cunt Four and Cunt Five giggled in anticipation as they moved forward towards it.

**-0-0-0-**

**_Author's notes:_**

**_\- Looks like Olga has now become a regular character… quite a painful process for her, though…_**

**_\- I didn't have the heart to make Louise go through the same thing again. Hence the memory loss._**

**_\- For the reviewers: I've updated the Dropbox folder again. If you have no idea what I'm talking about here, write some reviews while you're registered and logged in as a member, send me a PM, and you might learn. "Review" in my book means: coherent sentences, not just something like "Good chapter" ;-)_**

**_\- Turns out this chapter contains some controversial scenes for some people... _****_**_The plot around Savannah and Allie's submission to John was long in the making, t_**he foundations for it being already laid rather early in the preceding story "Dawn of a new Era". It is merely the culmination of a foreseeable development, so don't act surprised ;-)_**

**_\- Before you accuse me of an overuse of violence, remember that this is still based on the Terminator universe, where brutal killings were always on the agenda. Was it necessary to torture Olga? Yes, to demonstrate the danger she is in. Also, she has become tougher - I guess traveling with the Connor team does that to you ;-)  
_**

**_\- Did Nala deserve to die? Probably not, but neither did John's foster parents deserve to be killed by the T-1000 in T2, nor the punk who was impaled with Arnie's fist at the beginning of T1 (to name only two examples). Catherine's character may have evolved a lot - but she's still a terminator, and the same goes for Cameron, Alison and Emily. They will kill without hesitation and without remorse if they feel it's necessary. Never assume that they've all gone soft and fluffy now, just because they've come alive and developed real emotions.  
_**


	21. Egypt (Part 1)

**_CHAPTER 21: "EGYPT (PART 1)"_**

* * *

**Wednesday,** **January 28th, 2009 – 08:05 a.m.**

**Alexandria**

The _Rising Star_ had reached the port of Alexandria right before dawn. Everyone had gathered in the big salon for the last breakfast on board before the team would leave the ship for their trip through Egypt.

The news about John, Savannah and Allie had spread like wildfire when the two moved their belongings into John and ACE's suite. To John's astonishment, the reactions to the fact that the two were now officially in a relationship with him as well, were thoroughly positive. As it turned out, everyone had already firmly reckoned that it was only a matter of time until it happened. Even Derek commented on the situation only by a grimly muttered "about time".

However, John had decided to keep the exact nature of their relationship a secret for the time being. Sometimes, he and his women felt, such news should be brought to people in small portions. As they sat down at the breakfast table, everyone's attention was drawn to the physical changes Allie and Savannah had gone through.

"Wow," Lauren said, "look at you. That's amazing. Your skin is so flawless… can I touch?"

"Um… sure," Savannah replied.

"So silky... I like it."

"You also look younger," Jesse remarked. "Was that intentional?"

"I _am_ younger," Savannah corrected her. "Allie's and my physical age have been adjusted because John is still very young, and we may have to pass as his girlfriends to strangers."

Sarah frowned.

"So... perfect skin… younger... are there any other changes we might need to know about?"

"Nothing really significant," Allie replied, "except that, uh... the sensitivity of our, um... lips and tongues has been increased."

"What do you mean?"

Allie looked at John. He shrugged.

"Go ahead, tell them. It's what you fantasized about for months. Alison just made your fantasy come true."

"Okay, um… our tongues and lips are now as sensitive as our nether lips and our, um… clitoris."

"And they're also connected to the pleasure center of their brains," Alison added. "Any stimulation provides immediate lubrication of their vaginas."

Derek paused in his movement just as he was about to shove a fork full of scrambled eggs into his mouth. All the others stopped in mid-motion as well. For a moment, the whole team remained frozen like a still life.

"What?" Sarah then asked.

"Wow…" Jody said, "does that mean you can now have an orgasm from giving a blowjob?"

"Yes," Savannah replied, blushing a little. "At least when we're, um… properly stimulated."

"And you're okay with that?" Charley asked flabbergasted.

"Yes," both Allie and Savannah quickly answered.

"If they don't want it anymore," John quickly stated, "Alison can undo it anytime. No lasting effects."

"No, we want to keep it," Allie said, "it feels fantastic, it really does. It gets us so incredibly wet. And John's right, it's what we wanted."

"I know I always mocked Alison for being so wet all the time," Savannah added, "but I always wondered what it would feel like. Now I know. And I love it."

"No more calling me _Aunt Drippy_, I presume," Alison added with a smirk.

"But… why?" Charley asked. "Isn't that, well… inconvenient?"

"Not at all," Allie answered. "It's not like we're leaking juices everywhere. It's... just the right amount of wetness."

"And what do you mean with it's what you wanted?" Sarah inquired.

"John said he overheard us fantasizing about it back at the loft," Savannah explained. "So… Alison added it to the change cocktail as a surprise."

"What about when you eat something?" Kevin asked curiously. "Do you, uh… get excited then as well?"

"No," Allie said, "only when we get sexually stimulated."

"That's a relief," Derek remarked. "It'd be hard to go to a restaurant with you if you'd moan in delight over every bite, like Meg Ryan in _'When Harry met Sally'_."

The remark made everyone chuckle.

"Those are interesting changes," Jesse stated. "I just hope they won't have any unwanted side effects."

Alison rolled her eyes.

"The nanobots are already terminated," she assured, sounding a little annoyed, "there'll be no further changes."

"Good," Sarah commented dryly, "knowing how your nanobots work, they probably would have replaced their mouths and noses with a vagina. That would have been difficult to explain to strangers."

"Mom, you're being unfair," John said in his wife's defense, "it's not like she's doing it deliberately."

"No. She does it out of negligence, carelessness and a lack of diligence."

"I'm still learning, mom!" Alison pointed out, seeming a little hurt. "And with each time, it gets better. I'm learning from my mistakes."

"I hope so, I really hope so."

"I wouldn't mind that," Jody stated and popped a grape into her mouth.

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked.

"What you said… having a coochie... up there."

"What?" Jason asked in surprise, and everyone else also looked at her flabbergasted. "You'd like to have that in your face?"

"Sure, why not? I mean, not forever, of course, just temporarily… You know, to see what it feels like. The meaning of giving head would be redefined - literally."

"That's putting it mildly," Sydney said, "you'd be a freak!"

"It also wouldn't be recommendable," Alison pointed out. "Your whole body would have to be adjusted accordingly. Without a mouth and a nose, you wouldn't be able to breathe, speak or ingest food. It'd be very hard to supply the body with oxygen and enough nutrients. I wouldn't recommend it."

"Thank you for pointing that out," Charley said, "Jeez… I'll need days to get that picture out of my head now."

"I'm not saying it _couldn't_ be done," Alison quickly added, "but it would require more changes to the human anatomy, major changes, a complete redesign of the body. It actually could be quite interesting to…"

"STOP!" Sarah ordered resolutely. "This topic ends here and now, before anyone gets any funny ideas."

"Agreed," John said and turned towards Alison, "don't turn anyone's noses or mouths into vaginas. That's an order, okay?"

"Okay, John."

Jody looked a little disappointed.

"Good God," Charley stated. "Whenever I think that our conversations at the dining table can't get any weirder..."

**-0-**

**_Meanwhile, outside in the harbor of Alexandria…_**

The young man and the young woman watched from a pier on the other side of the port as the _Rising Star_ moored at the cruise terminal of the Western Harbour. Both looked through binoculars.

"There they are," the man said. "Now let's hope that the information is correct. Otherwise all this would have been for nothing."

"If we're wrong, we'll sure to be ridiculed when we return empty-handed."

"Not only that, but we'd have to pay all travel expenses in arrears. I don't know about you, but I don't have that kind of money."

"Neither do I. We put all our eggs in one basket. All or nothing."

"But think about what if we're right. It would be the coup of the century."

"Not much of a century so far. But we'd definitely go down in media history."

"Definitely."

"And you still don't know who your anonymous source is?"

"Wouldn't tell me. I only know that he or she is very well connected in La La Land. We've only been communicating anonymously. But so far, everything my source said was right. Wherever they moored, something happened. Often there were fatalities and weird incidents, and then yesterday the breaking news that they found the bodies of a group of engineers and technicians in a container in Germany. Police say they'd been working at a factory and were involved in a secret, illegal weapons production for Kaliba. Inexplicable incidents extend like a string of pearls from the Caribbean to Crete - with the _Rising Star_ always being on site or at least anchoring nearby. And if my informant is right again, they'll disembark here and make an organized trip through Egypt for several days as part of a travel group."

"Only too bad your informant was unable to give you detailed descriptions. It would have been nice to know how they look like."

"You should get your camera. Use the big telephoto lens. Let's take a couple of pictures when they disembark, we might not be able to do that later. If my informant's right, we can't get too close, or they'll become suspicious. We have to play American tourists convincingly. My source clearly warned me that one of them has the ability to detect certain brain activity. We mustn't show nervousness or fear, otherwise they might be able to detect us."

"Like you, I was a war correspondent for years. Iraq and Afghanistan couldn't scare me, so three cyborgs won't be able to either."

"I hope for both our sakes you're right. Wouldn't wanna end up as the next dead body in their wake…"

**-0-**

"Explain to me again why we can't make the trip on our own," Jody said while everyone gathered in the small foyer of the ship, ready to disembark, "I mean just us, without any strangers."

"Because it's less conspicuous and suspicious when we're part of a larger travel group," Sarah replied. "Isaak has booked it last year, and there's no point in canceling it now. We've discussed it all before. It wouldn't be fair to the tour operator either."

"But we must be very careful not to get muddled up in front of strangers," Lauren added.

"So what? Do you think you can't act like a normal person anymore?"

"I didn't say that."

"Talk and act like normal folks?" Danny asked. "I can do that. Will be refreshing for a change."

"Who are those people anyway?" Derek asked. "Do we know anything about them?"

"No," Sarah said. "We know nothing about them, and they know nothing about us. And that's a good thing. We're all tourists who booked a six-day, exclusive educational tour of Egypt. Our meeting point is at the bus terminal at the train station. There, a coach will be waiting to take us on the sightseeing tour through Alexandria, and to Giza tomorrow."

"I recommend you simply enjoy the experience," Anne said. "Imagine where we are. The ruins and monuments we'll visit, are sometimes well over four thousand years old."

Sarah looked at John.

"Did you draw straws?"

"Yes," he replied. "Alison won. She'll be officially my wife for now. Emily, Cam, Allie and Savannah will be my sisters and cousins during the trip."

Sarah nodded.

"All right then. No changes needed for the rest of us, just family and friends. Alison, have you worked on making Olga's Russian accent disappear the way you did it with Gabriella?"

"Yes. I have no Russian accent anymore."

"Excellent. Now…"

Sarah did a double-take and looked back at Olga who she'd mistaken for Alison.

"Very funny. Please don't play that game with me, okay? It's already hard enough to tell you two apart, and now that your accent is gone, it's even harder. We don't want to have to guess which of you is which."

"All right, all right," Olga replied with a big grin. "I'll stay with Louise most of the time, okay? Also, I'm not wearing the locket."

"Good. Any questions?"

"I just wish we could take baby Sydney with us," Lauren stated.

"Unfortunately, that's not possible," Charley said, "don't worry, the crew will take care of her. Doctor Rawlins will make an excellent nanny."

"Anything else?" Sarah asked, but nobody replied. "All right, let's go, the taxis are already waiting. Oh, and Anne… please try not to be a smart-ass all the time. Remember, you're a 16-year-old teenager, and we don't want to draw attention to ourselves. Let the tour guides do their job and keep a low profile, okay?"

Anne rolled her eyes.

"I couldn't say much anyway. Never been to Egypt before."

"Seriously?" Derek asked with a sarcastic undertone. "And here I was, thinking that you knew the whole world. I'm shocked."

Anne just showed him her middle finger. Then everyone grabbed their suitcases and began to walk down the gangway.

**-0-**

"Here they come," the woman said and took picture after picture with her telephoto lens while the man was standing next to her, looking through his binocular. "Wow, that's a lot of people."

"Yeah, at least twenty. I can spot thirteen… no, twelve young women who are candidates. I guess we can rule out the pregnant one."

"And you're sure that three of them are cyborgs?"

"Yes, I… oh shit, wait a second… That woman who walks next to the balding guy… do you recognize her?"

"No… should I?"

"That's Sarah Connor."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yes. And that young man who walks in front… that's her son, John."

"How do you know?"

"I never forget a face. It may have been fourteen years since they were last seen, but I recognized them immediately. Their faces were on every channel and in every newspaper then. They were among the most wanted in America after Miles Dyson's death."

"Yes, I know the story. But aren't they supposed to be dead?"

"Yeah, some obscure explosion I read about. I was in Bosnia when it happened."

"And I was still in college at the time. They never found any bodies or remains and the whole thing was covered up very quickly. Okay, I got them. Nice close-ups. Damn, she's way over forty but looks like in her mid-twenties, how does she do that?"

"Probably the same way why her son still looks like 17 or 18…"

"You mean time travel?"

"Sure. They didn't die in 1999, they just skipped a few years, letting everyone believe they're dead. Quite ingenious, actually."

"But if that's true, how did they get their hands on a time machine?"

The man shrugged.

"They've been in contact with visitors from the future before. I'm sure there's a lot going on we don't know about."

"So... nobody knows they're alive. Interesting. How are we going to find out which ones are the cyborgs?"

"We know they have dark hair and a big bust."

"Hair can be dyed… and all of them have big busts – that is, except for one. Question is if all those are natural. Wait… that's interesting…"

"What's interesting?"

"There are two pairs of twins in the group."

"You're right. Hmmm… doesn't have to mean anything, though. We'll have to observe everyone's behavior very closely, find out more about them."

"Shouldn't we be going? We don't want to miss the bus."

"You're right. Pack up and stow the photo equipment. Time for our little Egyptian adventure."

**-0-**

When the team reached the central bus terminal, they found out that the trip Isaak had booked for them, had been offered and organized by a large American daily newspaper. Apart from the Connor team, there were only three younger couples in their thirties or late twenties. The rest of the roughly forty-strong travel group were couples beyond their fifties, two were actually older than seventy. They came from all over the USA. While everyone stowed their suitcases in the luxurious coach, the various participants of the trip considered each other curiously, as this was the first time they met.

The fact that the Connor team now had two more participants than expected, Olga and Louise, was no problem because as they found out, Isaak had mistakenly planned for himself and Catherine to participate as well. So, there were no complications when the list of names was checked: Catherine and Isaak's names were simply replaced with Olga and Louise's.

The amount of exceptionally beautiful young women attracted special attention among the other travel companions, so that some of the ladies of the tour group felt compelled to admonish their spouses to stop staring too much in their direction. Everyone briefly introduced themselves, exchanged a few pleasantries, then the tour guide, a charming Egyptian woman in her forties, urged them to get on the bus so they could set off. The Connor team occupied the front half of the coach - only the first seat on the right, just behind the tour guide, was occupied by another couple, as the woman stated that she'd otherwise suffer from motion sickness. Sarah and Charley had agreed to exchange places with them and moved to the middle of the coach.

When the bus set off, the tour guide stood up and turned towards the passengers, holding a microphone in her hand. When she spoke, her voice was transmitted through the speaker system.

"Good morning," she said, "and welcome to Egypt. My name is Nazli, and I'll be your tour guide for the following three days. Together we will explore the treasures of ancient northern Egypt, starting with Alexandria today. I'm sure most of you know at least four important facts about this city. Let's see if we can piece them together. What's fact number one? Anyone wanna hazard a guess?"

An elderly gentleman raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"It was founded by Alexander the Great!"

"That is correct. Alexander the Great founded Alexandria in 331 BC and made it the capital of Egypt. Anything else?"

"Cleopatra lived here!" another elderly man shouted.

"Also correct," Nazli replied with a smile, "Cleopatra, full name Cleopatra VII Philopator, reigned as the last queen of the Egyptian Ptolemaic Empire and at the same time as the last female Pharaoh from 51 BC to 30 BC. All right, that leaves two more facts about Alexandria that everyone should know."

Anne raised her hand.

"Yes, young lady?"

"The famous library of Alexandria."

"Ah, yes. The Library of Alexandria was the most important ancient library. It was established shortly after the foundation of the city. Over one million scrolls were stored in its rooms and formed the canon of the sciences of that time. The date of the destruction of the library is unknown. Assumptions range from 48 BC to the 7th century. It is often believed that it fell victim to the destruction of the entire palace quarter of Alexandria in the 3rd century. To date, no remains of the library have been found. One more fact, please. Yes, the gentleman over there?"

One of the younger men had raised his hand.

"The lighthouse," he said.

"Correct. One of the seven wonders of the world, the famous lighthouse, also called Pharos, which was built on a small island in front of the harbor entrance, and according to ancient sources is said to have been up to 160 meters tall. It is believed to have been destroyed by a severe seaquake in 365 and was never rebuilt. However, scholars still argue about its purpose today. A function as a lighthouse to guide ships, as we define the term today, is rather unlikely, since in ancient times seafaring rested during the night. Ships anchored at dusk and remained there until sunrise. In addition, it would have been almost impossible to find enough firewood in sparsely forested Egypt for an uninterrupted operation. It is therefore assumed that the tower was above all a status symbol and a demonstration of strength, only lit on certain, significant days. Underwater archaeological research has been carried out in the port of Alexandria since 1994, which has provided new information about the predecessor settlement of Rhakotis and the Ptolemaic period. They also found some large stones that are believed to have belonged to the famous tower of Pharos."

The passengers on the bus murmured to each other. Apparently, not many people had been aware of these facts before.

"After the founding of Cairo, Alexandria gradually fell into insignificance," Nazli continued. "Having sunk to a fishing village cut off from the hinterland at the beginning of the 19th century, Alexandria managed to rise again to become an important international trading center thanks to the construction of the Mahmoudiyah Canal, which connects Alexandria to the Nile, and the flourishing of the lucrative Egyptian cotton trade. In case you didn't know, Egypt produces the highest quality cotton in the world today. Nowadays, Alexandria is Egypt's second largest city with more than five million inhabitants. It has the country's largest seaport, which handles about eighty percent of Egypt's foreign trade. As an important industrial location, it is supplied with oil and natural gas from Suez via pipelines. On our city tour, we'll visit all the important and interesting places, have a lunch at a typical Egyptian restaurant and yes, you'll also have the opportunity for some shopping. I hope you'll enjoy your stay."

The passengers applauded politely, and Nazli sat down again on her seat next to the bus driver.

**-0-**

**Wednesday,** **January 28th, 2009 – 11:05 a.m.**

**Caltech, Pasadena**

Professor Sean McMillan returned to his office at Caltech after his last lecture before noon, preparing to meet with Dr. Wendy Colleton for lunch. However, when he entered the room, someone was already waiting for him, an elderly man with glasses and a white beard. He turned to look at him.

"Hello Sean," the man said, "long time no see."

"Hugo!" McMillan exclaimed happily and the two of them hugged each other. "Hugo Atkins! What are you doing here? I thought you'd spend the rest of your days digging up mummies in Egypt."

"I guess I do… I mean I will. I'm just sort of passing through."

"What brings you here, old friend? Oh, how could I forget? The most important thing... whiskey?"

"Always."

McMillan poured both of them a glass of Irish whiskey. The old man took a sip and smiled.

"Still your favorite brand?" he asked.

"My taste hasn't changed. How long are you going to stay? Do you have accommodation?"

"Uh… I'm not playing to stay longer than a day, to be honest. I flew over the pond to seek your… advice. And maybe also… your help."

"My help? What could I help my old mentor with? You're an archeologist, an expert of ancient Egypt, I'm a metallurgist. You study the past, I do research for the future."

"Exactly. That's why I'm here. I taught you that in order to shape the future, you must understand the past."

"Yeah, I remember that. But why bringing that up now?"

"Because I found out that the past may yet have some surprises for us."

Hugo reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulled out a small, shiny object and presented it to his friend. It was a slightly conical metal disc, about five centimeters in diameter.

"Ever seen something like this? Are you familiar with the material? Because we haven't been able to identify it yet."

McMillan frowned and took the shiny piece of metal.

"Actually…" he said, then hesitated. "Uh… no. No. Sorry, I haven't. Where did you get it?"

"Nice try, Sean. But you can stop pretending. I know about your research… and your contacts."

"Contacts? What contacts?"

"You're a close friend of Thomas Novak. And Thomas Novak is... well, involved with _them_."

"_Them_?"

"The cyborgs. And the C.S.I.S. Just because I've spent the last few years on archaeological digs in Egypt and the Middle East doesn't mean I'm not up to date with what's going on in the world. You're under their protection, aren't you? Otherwise you wouldn't still he holding your professorship here as if nothing happened."

"Hugo, I…"

"It's okay, I understand you can't tell me anything. But I want to ask you to pass something on for me."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

Hugo reached into his pocket again and pulled out a black and white picture. It showed Egyptian hieroglyphs carved in stone, framed by an oval – McMillan had seen something similar before, it was called a royal cartouche. It was crowned by a triangle divided into three parts by a kind of Y symbol, creating a diamond-shaped square at the top and two four-sided polygons at the base. Horizontal lines were worked into the geometric patterns.

"_This_ photograph. Take a picture of it and the metal disc and send it to Thomas Novak. Please, do me the favor."

Hugo Atkins put the picture on the desk and placed the shiny metal disc on top of it. Then Sean McMillan took a picture of it with his cellphone.

"Ask Thomas Novak to forward it to his friends. Tell him that this cartouche was carved in stone more than four-and-a-half thousand years ago – and that the metal disc was found in the sand below it."

Sean McMillan looked up at his friend in astonishment, then typed a short text and sent it to Tom Novak, together with the picture. Hugo Atkins walked to the door.

"I'll be waiting at our old spot on the campus. If I'm not mistaken, the reaction won't be long in coming."

**-0-**

**Wednesday,** **January 28th, 2009 – 09:10 p.m.**

**Alexandria **

The city tour had lasted a total of five hours, including excursions to the Qāitbāy citadel - where the former location of the Pharos is believed to be -, various sacred buildings of both Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, as well as the Passage Menasce shopping mall. Although there was much to see, the male members of the tour group often only had eyes for the women of the Connor team, as their wives noted with displeasure.

Dinner was at a five-star hotel where they'd spend the night and then continue on to Cairo and Giza in the morning, using the same bus and the same tour guide. To John's and the girls' disappointment, only double rooms had been booked for all members of the travel group. Suites were not available, so for better or worse John had to be content with sharing a room with Alison only, while Savannah and Allie, as well as Cameron and Emily each took another double room. Sarah commented the situation with a succinct _"You'll survive"_ before she disappeared with Charley in her own room.

* * *

In another double room on another floor of the hotel, the young man and the young woman from the harbor who posed as a couple, fell exhausted into two armchairs.

"I'm beat," said the woman, "my feet hurt."

"That's what you get for driving every mile in Los Angeles instead of walking," the man replied with a grin.

"Smart-ass. In New York you use the subway, what's the difference? Let us rather talk about what we've learned today. Have you noticed anything unusual?"

"Nope, nothing at all. They behave like normal couples, including the two female ones."

She smirked.

"I'm not surprised you noticed that."

He looked at her with a frown.

"What are you implying?"

"Nothing. Forget it. But you're right, there was no conspicuous behavior, nothing to suggest that three of them aren't human."

"Indeed. But that was to be expected. I mean, we saw their interview on TV, watched it over and over again, and also Zoe Kruger's statement in _Tough but Fair_ that nobody would be able to tell their true identity just by how they behave. We knew it wouldn't be easy."

"Doesn't that scare you? I mean, if machines - robots - built on an assembly line with the original purpose of killing people, can so convincingly impersonate humans..."

"To be honest, I'm not sure yet what I should feel about it. On the one hand, it's an amazing achievement, on the other hand I cannot suppress the thought of what happens if they get out of control…?"

"That's the point, isn't it? All we have, is their word. But why should be believe them so willingly? And how should we know that they told us everything? I want to know everything about them, not just half the truth, filtered and controlled by the C.S.I.S. and the government. They've been elevated to national heroines, but how much of that is the truth and how much is propaganda? It's our job as investigative journalists to mistrust the official statements and remain skeptical, to find out the whole truth and share it with the public."

"Nice speech. But let's not be hasty. We must continue carefully to not arouse suspicion."

"I only wish there was a way to somehow detect what they are."

"Me too… but that would almost certainly lead to our cover being blown. We have to remain extremely cautious, think positive thoughts, maintain a happy holiday mood. We're harmless tourists, keep that in mind."

"Right. Ever thought about what to do once we found out which of them are the cyborgs?"

He shrugged.

"Take pictures, make notes, maybe confront them, ask for an interview, and hope they won't kill us, I guess. We both know what it means to be among hostile forces. You were with the Taliban, and I was with al-Qaeda to interview their leaders. This can't possibly get any worse. They need positive publicity."

"Let's hope you're right about that." She yawned. "You're taking the sofa, I'm taking the bed, so you don't get any ideas."

He scoffed.

"As if…"

**-0-**

**Wednesday,** **January 28th, 2009 – 12:35 p.m.**

**Caltech, Pasadena**

Hugo Atkins sat on one of the benches lining the Beckman Mall and watched the students pass by. They didn't pay any attention to him. He leaned back and held his face into the sun, when suddenly someone blocked it. He opened his eyes and saw an attractive woman in a pantsuit, probably in her early forties but looking younger. She had long auburn hair, gray eyes, and a nice, slim figure.

"Dr. Hugo Atkins?" she asked, smiling friendly.

"Yes?"

She showed him a badge.

"My name's Zoe Kruger. I'm the head of the C.S.I.S."

"The head? Wow, I knew you guys would probably react quickly, but I figured you'd send an officer or an agent, not the head of the whole agency."

She sat down next to him

"This is important, and I happened to be in town. Tom Novak forwarded me your message with the picture. Can you show me the item?"

"You get right to the point. No small talk?"

She just looked at him expectantly without answering, then he sighed, reached into his pocket, and handed her the small, disc-shaped piece of metal. Zoe frowned.

"Do you know what this is?" Dr. Atkins asked.

"I'm not sure. I've seen something similar before… but not exactly like this. Are you ready to answer some questions?"

"What do you wanna know?"

"I want to know _where_ you found it, _when_ you found it, and under which circumstances."

"At a current excavation northwest of the Great Pyramid of Khufu, which was established due to a new construction site there. The cartouche is located at the wall of the antechamber of an underground mastaba we found – that's a grave, a tomb."

"I know what a mastaba is."

"We found the metal disc three days ago when we removed the sand that had piled up in the antechamber. It's nothing we've ever seen, it shows no signs of corrosion or aging, yet it's not a precious metal. It also is extremely hard. Some kind of alloy, we think. According to radio-carbon dating it's about 4,700 years old. But the ancient Egyptians knew nothing like it. At that time, the production of bronze was the latest craze."

"Who else knows of the find?"

"Only me and my assistant know about the cartouche and the metal disk. Maurice stayed in Giza to watch over the excavation site."

"Can he be trusted?"

"Yes. But the workers or the Egyptian officials, not so much. We thought it best to keep this to ourselves for now."

"You thought right. The grave itself is still unopened, I presume?"

"So far, yes. We're still waiting for permission. No sign that anyone ever got in there before, which is quite remarkable and exciting, to be honest."

"Good. I assume it's being guarded?"

"No, that would only attract attention. I figured we better avoid that. But the dig is located on a construction site, which is surrounded by a high wire mesh fence to keep unauthorized people out."

"Excellent."

"So… is this find what I think it is?"

"It depends on what you think but I suppose so. When are you planning to fly back to Egypt?"

"I booked a flight to Cairo for eight o'clock this evening, via London."

"Cancel it. You'll travel back to Giza on my corporate jet, straight to Sphinx Airport in Giza. And I will accompany you."

"Wow… You? I mean… you'll join me? You alone?"

"Yes, this requires my presence at the dig. And the less people know of it, the better. Besides, I'll have full diplomatic status and immunity."

"I'm surprised by your reaction. To be honest, I didn't think it would cause the C.S.I.S. to panic like this."

Zoe tilted her head and smiled.

"This isn't panicking. Not yet. This is being alarmed, because we must above all prevent that word gets around about what was found there. If I'm right, there's more to the site than just this piece of metal and the cartouche with the inscription."

"Won't the landing of your jet alert the local authorities?"

"Diplomatic channels are already being used to negotiate support from local authorities on the highest levels. Luckily, America has some influence in the Egyptian government. By the time we get there, we should have carte blanche and be able to operate relatively unhindered."

"You don't do things by halves."

"There's a reason why I'm in this position, Dr. Atkins. Also, there's no time to lose."

"I have one more question."

"Yes?"

"If we're right with our assumption... How is that possible?"

Zoe hesitated for a moment.

"I don't know," she then said and pulled out her cellphone. "But I'll contact someone who might have an explanation. Do you have a place to sleep in case this drags on until tomorrow?"

"I could ask Sean McMillan to…"

"Excellent. I'll send a car to pick you up as soon as we're ready."

And with that, she simply stood up and walked away, leaving a somewhat dumbfounded Dr. Hugo Atkins behind. Only when she was gone he realized that she'd taken the metal disc and the photograph with her.

**-0-**

**Wednesday,** **January 28th, 2009 – 10:15 p.m.**

**Alexandria **

John let himself fall onto the double bed in their room and sighed while Alison walked straight to the to the window to scan the area outside.

"Bed's nice," he said. "Why don't you join me?"

"After I checked the perimeter," she replied and opened the door to the balcony.

John rolled his eyes. He got up and stood behind her, stroking her upper arms.

"You know, I could order you to stop being so paranoid and have sex with me right now."

She looked at him with a stoic face.

"Yes, you could. But I wouldn't comply until your safety is assured. You know the routine, John."

"All right then… what's the security status?"

"Unfortunately, the rooms of all our team members are scattered over several floors. None of the adjacent rooms are occupied by any of our people. We're up on the 5th floor, which provides some safety. But somebody with a sniper rifle could target us from half a kilometer away."

"And... is there somebody with a sniper rifle?"

"No."

"Then close the curtains, shut the door, get naked and come to bed."

Alison looked at him and tilted her head.

"You now, just because Skynet is history and Judgement Day won't happen, it doesn't mean there won't be somebody out there who wants to harm John Connor… or worse. There might still be terminators we don't know about with the directive to kill you."

"I know that. But we're in Egypt, how probable is it that a terminator is here?"

"Right now, there are three of us here."

John groaned, then smiled mischievously.

"This is the first and probably the last time in a while that we're alone together. Tomorrow, we'll have a suite again. Don't you want to have me all for yourself tonight for a change?"

Alison contemplated the thought.

"You have a point," she then said with a grin and started shedding her clothes.

"Finally!" John exclaimed and grinned back at her, also starting to undress.

Once naked, they knelt on the bed and looked each other in the eyes.

"I love you, husband," she said softly.

"I love you too, wife," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face..

They kissed.

And then John's cellphone rang. He rolled his eyes.

"What the… who can it be now?"

"Maybe one of the others?" Alison speculated.

John jumped off the bed and reached for his pants, fishing out his phone.

"No, it's Zoe," he said with a frown and took the call. "Hey Zoe… what's the emergency? I was about to go to bed."

"_Are you alone, John?"_

"Um, no… Alison is with me. Why?"

"_Please, put the call on speaker."_

John frowned.

"Okay. Done."

"_Hello Alison."_

"Hello Zoe."

_"I have to apologize for bothering you, but the reason I'm calling is that there's currently an archaeological excavation going on in Giza northwest of the Great Pyramid. A single underground grave has been discovered there, a so-called mastaba. The tomb itself is still sealed but we have a photo of an inscription at the wall of the antechamber. It contains the name of the buried. I'll be needing your help, John, or rather Alison's help, to be precise. I'm sending you the picture. Hold on."_

John's phone chimed and he and Alison looked at the picture that showed the cartouche with the inscription.

"That's unexpected," Alison stated with a frown, sounding surprised. "How old is that?"

"_Probably more than four-and-a-half thousand years."_

"What does the inscription say?" John asked. "Those are hieroglyphs, I can't read them."

_"It's what is known as a royal cartouche,"_ Zoe explained. _"Does the symbol above the cartouche look familiar to you, John?"_

"Wait... is that…?"

"_Yes, it's the Cyberdyne Systems corporate logo, later used by Skynet as its own logo as well."_

"How can it be carved in stone more than 4,500 years ago? That has to be a coincidence!"

"_I'm afraid it isn't. That symbol is nowhere else to be found in Egyptian art or writings. The name in the cartouche reads Medjedu, which means 'He who crushes the enemies'. That's also the Horus name of pharaoh Khufu. And underneath it, there is an addition that says, 'Son of the net in the sky'… or in short 'Son of Skynet'."_

"Wait, what!? Are you saying that pharaoh Khufu came from the future, a time traveler?"

"_Not only that. I also believe he was a cyborg."_

**-0-**

**Thursday,** **January 29th, 2009 – 08:12 a.m.**

**New Delhi**

The five leading members of the _51 Society_ had gathered in Mahesh Bokhari's office. A catering service had set up a breakfast buffet. After eating and exchanging news and pleasantries, they sat down at the conference table.

"All right, brother Mahesh," a middle-aged, fat man said while his eyes rested with relish on the curves of Bokhari's beautiful secretary serving coffee, "what is the cause of this emergency meeting? I had assumed that we'd meet at the next great assembly."

"That used to be the plan, Brother Walter," Bokhari confirmed and everyone noticed that their leader looked nervous and a little disheveled, "but the plan has changed. Thank you, Nala, that'll be all."

The secretary smiled and left but not before exchanging looks with Bokhari, causing him to gulp nervously.

"Are you all right, Brother Mahesh?" one of the other men asked.

"I'm fine," Bokhari replied, clearing his throat. "Maybe I caught a bug, we'll see. Doesn't matter. I called you here to talk about our strategy of how to deal with Catherine Weaver and her team."

"I thought we already had a strategy," Steven Rogers remarked surprised.

"Yes… we had. But new information has arisen that will solve our problems with them once and for all."

"Oh?" Rogers asked and leaned back into his chair with a frown, wondering why he hadn't been informed before. "Let's hear it then."

Bokhari contemplated his words for a moment.

"I had a… private meeting with Catherine Weaver the day before yesterday."

Rogers straightened up in his chair again while the others gasped.

"You what?"

"It wasn't so much a meeting as it was a, well... surprise visit from her."

Rogers groaned.

"She knows, doesn't she?" he said. "They broke the encryption of the e-mails that were stolen from Brother Jonas' computer and found out about us. About all of us."

Bokhari sighed, then nodded.

"Yes. Apparently… they know everything about us. That's why she came here."

For a moment, nobody spoke.

"Well… obviously you're still alive," Rogers then said, "which means she wasn't here to kill you. What did she want?"

"A truce."

Rogers scoffed.

"What?"

"She suggested a truce. No further mutual operations or attacks to harm one another. She shared with me the, uh... facts of the situation. And I came to understand that she holds us all in the palm of her hand."

Rogers laughed while the other three members of the_ 51 Society_ seemed to be in shock and remained silent.

"Seriously? She was trying to blackmail you, Brother Mahesh? We're clearly in a better position than she is."

"You have no idea…" Bokhari replied in a resigned tone.

Rogers frowned.

"You're afraid," he stated. "No… you're terrified. What exactly happened? What did she say that scared you so much?"

"I wish I could tell you… but the consequences would be dire. She asked us to stop attacking her and her team or their operations… and in return they won't attack us any longer, leave us in peace."

"And what did you say to her?"

"I said that I would inform you first and then call a great assembly of all remaining members to vote on it. I wanted you to know this before I went through with it. Pending the vote, I want any and all current or future operations against Weaver or her team to cease and desist, which includes the withdrawal of the agents observing her in Los Angeles."

Rogers scoffed once more.

"And you expect us to just take her word for it and do what she wants us to do?"

"Brother Steven, enough blood has been shed already…"

"Yes! _Our_ members' blood! Not theirs!"

"I know... I'm asking you... to do as I say. Don't make me pull rank on you."

The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Rogers made a resigning gesture.

"Fine," he said. "I'll pull the agents away. If she got here without anyone noticing her absence, they're not worth the effort anyway."

"Thank you, Brother Steven. I'm sure we're doing the right thing."

"This decision isn't final, Brother Mahesh. It's been postponed until the great assembly. You should come up with a better and more convincing explanation until then."

"I will."

"If no one else has anything to say," the fat man named Walter said, "I suggest we go home and wait until the assembly is called. I have a lot of other appointments."

Everyone murmured their agreement and stood up, and the four members of the 51 Society quickly left the office. When they were out of the room, Nala entered again and closed the door behind her. Then she morphed into the shape of Catherine Weaver.

"Well done, Mahesh. That went better than expected. I didn't have to interfere."

"You mean you didn't have to kill them right here and now."

"Precisely."

"Steven Rogers isn't convinced, though. He wants revenge and might be willing to take action on his own, ignoring my orders."

"I have him covered, don't worry about it."

"I don't even want to know what that means. What happens now?"

"Now… I'm returning to Los Angeles. I'm missing my daughter."

Bokhari scoffed.

"Your _daughter_."

"There's a lot you still have to learn about me, Mahesh. And in time, you will... as from now on we'll be business partners. I always wanted a foothold in India."

"And you're getting it by blackmailing me!"

"Mahesh, don't be silly, this is to our mutual advantage. Who knows? Perhaps a fruitful alliance will emerge from all this? It wouldn't be the first time such a thing happens."

"An alliance at gunpoint."

"I already informed you about the alternatives. Would you prefer them?"

Bokhari didn't answer to that.

"How can I explain Nala's disappearance?" he asked instead. "There's no body, just some bones."

Catherine morphed into the shape of the dead secretary again.

"Nala will enter her car," she said, "and then, on her way to the airport, she'll have a terrible accident. Car accidents happen all the time in India, it's one of the most dangerous places to drive on Earth. The car will burn out completely, leaving only her charred bones. I already made the necessary preparations, don't worry about it."

"You're so ice-cold, you send shivers up and down my spine."

"I can be very warm, Mahesh," Catherine replied with a smile, "maybe you'll find out one day."

* * *

After Catherine had entered Nala's car, she pulled out her cellphone and dialed John Henry's number.

"Do you receive the signal?" she asked.

"_Yes. It's coming in clear. Did he notice anything?"_

"You mean if Steven Rogers noticed I implanted a chip into him that will transmit his location and all of his activities to you? No, of course not. Humans often have phantom sensations. He'll soon forget that little sting in the back of his neck."

"_While you were gone, I received a call from Zoe Kruger."_

"Oh? Was it just as a friend, or did she want something?"

"_She wanted me to give her Alistair's number."_

"And did you?"

"_I saw no reason not to."_

"Did she say why?"

"_No."_

"She probably had her reasons. I'll ask her next time I talk to her."

"_When will you be back, Catherine?"_

"Soon. I'm on my way to the airport."

"_I'm looking forward to seeing you again."_

"The feeling's mutual, John Henry. The feeling's mutual."

**-0-**

**Thursday,** **January 29th, 2009 – 08:01 a.m.**

**Alexandria**

The Connor team had secured the largest table in the breakfast room of the hotel. The leading members, consisting of John, ACE, Sarah, Allie, Savannah and Derek, sat close together in the middle and discussed in hushed voices what Zoe had told John the night before, while the rest tried to listen as well or looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"Is she serious?" Derek asked unbelieving. "Pharaoh Khufu a terminator? That sounds like a plot from a cheap Indiana Jones rip-off."

"Nothing is certain," John replied, "there's only circumstantial evidence so far, and perhaps it's all just a great coincidence and it all vanishes into thin air. But we need to look into it, I agree with Zoe in that respect. And we all know that it's quite possible to send someone so far back in time."

"But why?" Allie asked.

John shrugged.

"Zoe said she has a theory and tried to contact Yani to confirm it. Alistair told her he'd relay the question to her but when we talked, he hadn't replied yet."

"It will be noticed when you temporarily leave the group in Giza and skip the Egyptian Museum," Sarah remarked. "People might ask where you went."

"I will pretend to be sick and stay in the hotel. Alison will stay by my side as my devoted, caring wife."

"Why only Alison?" Savannah asked. "Why not more of us? I mean I understand that John needs to be there as our team leader... but why no one else?"

"Two reasons," John replied. "Firstly, Zoe specifically requested only Alison to be present when the tomb is opened. Her scanners are still far superior, despite Zoe's upgrades. Secondly, it would be suspicious if half our team suddenly called in sick. Remember, we don't want to draw attention to ourselves."

* * *

"See how they put their heads together?" asked the man at a table a little further away. "They're discussing something."

"Don't look over there," the woman replied. "They're obviously careful not to have anyone listening to them. You'll make yourself suspicious if you keep staring at them."

"Oh, come on, don't be ridiculous. Every male member of the tour group has been constantly staring at the girls. I'd make myself suspicious if I _didn't _do it."

"At least try not to look so lustfully in their direction."

The man grinned.

"Jealous?"

"You wish."

* * *

"It's decided," John said. "It's just Alison and me meeting with Zoe and this archaeologist. The rest of you will carry on with the tourist program. We'll meet again at the hotel in the evening. Then we'll fill you in with what's happened."

"I don't like it," Derek said. "What if Khufu really was a terminator? What are they expecting to find? A cyborg in standby mode?"

"Unlikely," Emily replied, "the power cell only lasts for about 150 years. There's no way a new one could have been fabricated in such ancient times, even with future knowledge. It's not enough that you know how to make something. You also need to have the materials, the equipment, and the manufacturing capabilities. A cyborg power cell is so complicated to make that even today it wouldn't be possible to simply reverse-engineer and then produce it. You'd still need to put a lot of research into it, even if you know how it works. It has a reason that Catherine stores cyborg bodies in the Babylon labs. There's still no way to manufacture spare parts on our own."

"So… let's assume the cyborg _'died'_ when his power ran out," Sarah said. "What would the old Egyptians have done with the body?"

"Normally they would have tried to mummify it," Allie stated. "Only they'd have been in for a big surprise if they wanted to remove the organs."

"I think we can rule out mummification," John replied. "but what happens to a cyborg when the body has run out of power?"

"When the power cell is empty," Cameron explained, "the body no longer functions, and the biological shell begins to rot. It'd be gone within a few months. It might be possible that they tried to mummify him and realized that he wasn't human. But that would leave the question unanswered as to why none of it has been passed down through the centuries."

"Maybe the priests or whoever were responsible for burying him, kept it secret," Savannah speculated. "Maybe they truly believed he was a God of sorts."

"Possible," Emily replied, "but they would've written it down and passed it on anyway. It's much more likely the cyborg would have made arrangements that determined exactly how his body should be treated after his _'death'_. And most likely all those responsible for the treatment were killed afterwards, so they couldn't pass on their knowledge."

"Could the chip survive for four-and-a-half thousand years?" Derek asked.

"It is theoretically possible," Alison answered, "but I doubt it. If you leave it in the open, the contact with wind and weather would cause the chip to oxidize rather quickly. If it remains safely inside its port, though, the chip could theoretically be preserved for a long time. However, the vacuum inside the skull will not withstand the millennia. The air will eventually find its way in."

"How long can a chip last anyway?" Sarah asked. "I once read somewhere that it's just a matter of time until things start decomposing."

"Yes," Cameron confirmed, "diffusion and entropy. Different materials tend to seep into each other until they're dissolved."

"What? Like sugar in water?" Derek asked.

"Yes, only much, much slower. The chemical and physical processes that decompose the materials inside a chip can be slowed down, but not stopped. Ultimately, any technology will fail - even if it's not in use - unless it has been cooled down to 0 degrees Kelvin. Then all chemical reactions will stop, but this wouldn't have been possible to achieve in ancient Egypt."

"So.. how long could a terminator CPU last?" Sarah asked.

"Today's microprocessors will last perhaps a hundred years before they stop working," Alison replied. "A terminator CPU will last much longer because Skynet has developed countermeasures that slow down the process fifty times, but it requires an airtight seal and an intact vacuum. In any case, the chances that a chip is still functioning after such a long time are extremely low, even under the best circumstances and the best methods of preserving it."

"If Khufu really was a cyborg," John said, "then our priority can only be to remove all traces of it, to secure any finds that indicate it, and bring them to Los Angeles for further study in the Babylon Labs. At least that's how I understood Zoe. We don't want outsiders to know what's really going on, which is another reason Alison should be there. If necessary, witnesses must be manipulated into forgetting what they've seen."

**-0-**

The coach left at 10 am. Already during the two-hour drive from Alexandria to Giza, John began to complain of stomach aches and headed for the toilet several times. Against his protests and much to his annoyance, Alison had made sure that his performance was convincing by administering a laxative to him.

When the group finally reached the Mena House, the luxury hotel which was located within sight of the pyramids, it was already clear to everyone that he wouldn't be taking part in the afternoon trip to the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. The tour guide was informed that John and Alison would stay at the hotel, so that John could recover from his indigestion.

After arriving at the hotel, everyone moved into their rooms, and before going to lunch, the entire Connor team met in the suite that John Henry had secretly booked for them. It was the Pyramid Suite, intended for up to six people, with a balcony from which one had an unobstructed view directly to the Pyramid of Khufu. Meanwhile, John had miraculously recovered completely.

"Well, well," Anne said, "we'll have to make do with double rooms while the gentry occupy the luxury suite."

"That is because you're all couples," Cameron replied a little indignantly, "but there are six of us."

"It was a _joke_," Anne emphasized and slightly shook her head, "you still have an irony deficit, don't you?"

"We didn't know you were capable of irony," Savannah deadpanned, "we only know you to be capable of sarcasm and cynicism."

Anne stuck out her tongue in response.

"Seriously, though, John," Charley said, looking around in the lush suite, "how were you able to change the reservation on such short notice? And the view… it's fantastic. It's like looking at the pyramids from a palace window."

"John Henry helped a little," John replied, "I called him after I talked to Zoe last night. We're paying the normal price for the suite, of course. I figured we might need a place where we can gather for talking about things undisturbed."

"Yeah, well… it doesn't exactly help that the majority of our team consists of young, beautiful women," Derek stated. "We've been under observation ever since we arrived at the bus terminal in Alexandria."

"It's the price for beauty," Olga remarked, "you'll get used to it. At least nobody has tried to make a pass on me or asked for autographs yet. They keep their distance."

"Anyway, that was good thinking, John," Sarah said, "but we need to go now. Lunch is about to begin in five minutes."

"Did you have to mention that, mom? My digestive tract is completely empty, I'm starving."

Sarah smirked.

"Was _your_ idea to simulate stomach problems. Now deal with it."

He gave her a sour look.

"All right then, mom, see you in the evening."

They kissed goodbye and the team left, leaving John and Alison alone. He sighed.

"All right… I guess I'll have to make do without food until dinner."

"I wouldn't say that," Alison replied and went to one of her travel bags, pulling out a plastic lunch box. "Here, I gathered the remains from breakfast for you."

"You're a life saver!" John exclaimed happily. "Come here, you…"

He pulled her close and kissed her. She flung her arms around him and returned the kiss. After a moment, he loosened himself from her again.

"When is Zoe's jet going to land?"

"An hour."

Kiss.

"How far is the Sphinx airport from here?"

Kiss.

"Thirty-eight kilometers. About forty minutes by car."

Kiss.

"Enough time for a quickie."

Kiss.

"I like your thinking. But didn't you say you were hungry?"

"I'll eat on the forty minute taxi ride. Let's not waste time and get naked already."

**-0-**

"I think it's unfair," Allie complained as the coach drove into Cairo. "John and Alison are going to be alone for the whole day after having spent the night alone together in a double room already."

Those within earshot rolled their eyes.

"You know that's a completely wrong view, don't you?" Lauren replied, "you know exactly why those two are alone."

"Cheer up," Emily said, "you're going to survive without him for two days. I survived decades without him."

"I know," Allie replied, suddenly sounding meekly, "it's just that… I have a feeling it won't be as easy as he made it sound. _'Just going to assist Zoe a little, might become interesting and educational'._ If you ask me, it might become dangerous."

"Everything we do might become dangerous," Cameron reminded her, "but John has two cyborgs to watch over him. He'll be fine."

* * *

Further back in the coach, the pair of reporters looked at the scene in the front of the bus.

"They don't seem to be too happy that John and his wife have stayed behind," the man said. "Rotten bit of luck to get sick on this holiday trip."

"_If_ he is sick."

"What do you mean?"

"Kind of a sudden, don't you think? And nobody else is showing any symptoms. Stomach pain and diarrhea, huh? We all had the same food. If you ask me, it's quite possible he's faking it."

"Faking it? But why?"

"I don't know. But since we're stuck with the group now, we probably won't find out."

"One of us should have stayed back at the hotel."

"Yes… but it's too late now. Let's concentrate on observing the team."

"If he's faking it… could it be that his wife… what was her name?"

"Alison."

"Yes… could it be that she's one of the three? I mean, they wouldn't leave John Connor alone and unprotected, right?"

"Hmm… you have a point. Good thinking."

"Which means the other one, her twin… Olga, she's also a…"

"No! I did some research on her. She's actually a Russian fashion and fitness model from Saint Petersburg."

"What?"

"Interesting, isn't it? Why do an American woman from L.A. and a Russian model look absolutely identical?"

"Are you insinuating that…?"

"I'm just trying to think logically. We know that Skynet has often modeled its cyborgs after human subjects. If we assume for the moment that Olga is the role model for Alison the cyborg, then we can also assume that Allie is - or rather was - the role model for Cameron, and that they've gathered the two around them to have them close, or under their control."

"That's pretty thin."

"The greatest stories often begin with a very thin theory."

"Why not the other way round? Why don't you think Allie is the cyborg and Cameron the original?"

She smiled.

"While you were busy drinking at the bar last night, I was doing a little research. Wasn't easy. But I found out that while nothing is known anymore about the incident at the bank in 1999 because all files seem to have been deleted from the web, it is known that John and Sarah were accompanied by a teenage girl that day who pointed a gun at the clerk and demanded to be locked inside the vault. Witnesses described her as pretty, petite, with brown hair and a small bust. And when I dug a little deeper, I found out that a girl fitting that description was a student at a school in New Mexico where a shooter apparently went after a young boy named John Reese. Her name was Cameron Phillips, and nothing is known of her, except that she and John Reese seemed to have become friendly with each other very quickly."

"John Reese and Cameron Phillips… John and Cameron. You really think…?"

"Why not? Can't be a coincidence, can it? At least not when you also consider that Cameron Phillips got shot by the same shooter who tried to kill John Reese that day. And that she miraculously survived and disappeared from class after that, with several classmates stating that she'd gone down with several bullets in her chest. If you ask me, she was the girl from the bank, and she was protecting John Reese – or rather John Connor. Only she's not really a girl."

The man whistled silently.

"And you found that out last night?"

"Yes… there was an internet café two blocks away from the hotel we stayed in."

"I'm glad you didn't use your own laptop."

"I'm not stupid. We know the C.S.I.S. has methods to locate people who enter certain search words. I used my flash drive with Tails on it, which leaves no traces on the computer."

"So… you think Alison and Cameron are two of the three cyborgs. Who do you think could be the third one? There's no third couple of twins."

"No idea. But two out of three isn't bad after just one day… if we're right, that is."

The man nodded, then he suddenly froze and groaned.

"What is it?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

"Damn… I just remembered… a couple of months ago, there was an article in the Daily News… The headline was something like _'Do cyborgs kill humans to take their place?'_."

"The Daily News? Isn't that the rag for which that bitch Cheryl Dawson wrote before she shot herself in the head after having an S/M orgy with two LAPD officers she killed afterwards?"

"Yeah… that's why nobody took it serious back then. The Daily News' reputation was abysmal at the time, and Cheryl's demise - or rather the way she died - gave it the rest. It has improved again since then, but that article seems to have been completely forgotten."

"Not by you, though."

"My memory is my greatest asset. I absorb information. Anyway, the article appeared shortly after the two cyborg girls gave their TV interview in that hangar. It advocated the crude theory that George Laszlo… you know, that C-movie actor who killed an FBI SWAT team more than a year ago, wasn't a human but in fact a cyborg who'd taken his place."

"Which in hindsight sounds less silly than it did at the time. Because we now know for a fact that Skynet actually did send back terminators in time to kill humans and take their place."

"Right… we know that _now_. Anyway, the article also mentioned a young, homeless woman who'd lost her memories and ended up in a halfway house in Los Angeles, claiming to be a killer machine from the future. What was her name again? Alison... Alison Young."

"Another Alison?"

"Yes! And she claimed to be from Palmdale, where at the same time a girl named Alison Young was indeed born. The Daily News hinted that the young woman at the halfway house might be a cyborg from the future, created in the image of the adult Alison Young. Of course, no one took that crap seriously back then... And the Young family had obtained a restraining order prohibiting the Daily News from further spreading such nonsense. After that, no one spoke of it anymore."

"But you think the article was right, don't you?"

"Another Alison, or maybe _Allie_ to avoid confusion, who happens to have an identical twin sister with the name Cameron? Like Cameron Phillips? Come on, your alarm should be going off right about now."

She said nothing, only looking at him with a frown.

"I know it still sounds far-fetched," he said in a resigned tone, "even crazy, if you think about it…"

"No… we come to the same conclusion from different ends. I'm pretty sure now that Alison and Cameron are two of the three cyborg girls. Now the only question is, who's the third?"

**-0-**

**Thursday,** **January 29th, 2009 – 01:55 p.m.**

**Sphinx Airport, Giza**

John and Alison waited for Zoe and Dr. Atkins at the exit of the airport. The C.S.I.S. jet had landed only ten minutes ago. He assumed that customs formalities wouldn't take long thanks to Zoe's diplomatic status.

"Why don't _we_ have diplomatic status as well?" Alison asked. "It would save us the trouble of going through customs and passport control at every port we call at."

John chuckled.

"You don't mean that serious, do you?"

"Actually, I do. Aren't we unofficial members of the C.S.I.S. as well, diplomatic representatives of the USA so to speak, just like Zoe?"

"The emphasis is on _unofficial_. We're basically just consultants. Our names do not appear on any employee list, and we don't work as diplomats for an embassy or a consulate. Even if we were official representatives of the USA, it would always only apply to a specific country. There's no universal diplomatic status for world travelers like us. At least not yet. Zoe also has an exposed position, partly because of her job and partly because of her personal relationships with the White House. Her face is well-known, it's on the news and the front pages all the time. We, however, have chosen to remain in the background. And that's a good thing. Maybe that changes someday when the world grows more together. But that is pie in the sky and will not happen in the foreseeable future, as you know very well."

"One can always have hope. Hope dies last."

"Yes… but only because mankind hasn't found a way to kill it yet."

"Why so pessimistic, John? You know what the future will look like. We've been told."

He sighed.

"Yes… but we also know that the road will be long and rocky."

"There will be setbacks, yes, things will get worse before they get better. It's always been the way of things. Wars, catastrophes, plagues... they've always brought disaster to humanity. But in the end, mankind has always emerged stronger than before."

John looked at her and smiled, then took her hand and kissed her.

"We will prevail," he said. "I know that. It's just that people like Takis Manolakas really piss me off. They're part of the reason why I sometimes believe that we as a species actually deserve all the hardships we experience. It just isn't right that such people become so powerful and influential. And the worst thing is, many people admire crooks if they only appear brazen enough. Sometimes, life isn't fair..."

"The universe is never fair."

John looked at her.

"True. But that can also be a good thing. Just imagine the universe would be fair and all the bad things happen to us because we deserve them. So, I should actually take solace from the general unfairness of the universe."

Alison looked at him.

"Sometimes you humans are quite strange."

He looked back at her and smiled.

"Good. It's nice to know that even with all your abilities, we can still puzzle you."

They kissed again, holding each other tight.

In that moment, the sliding doors of the airport's exit opened and revealed Zoe Kruger, followed by an elderly, white-haired gentleman with a beard. Both pulled small trolleys.

"I hope we're not interrupting anything," Zoe said with a smirk.

John let go of Alison, grinned sheepishly, and welcomed Zoe with a warm hug and a peck on the cheek. Alison did the same.

"It's good to see you," he said. "It's been too long."

"Indeed. May I introduce you to Dr. Hugo Atkins? He's the leading archeologist of the excavation and made us aware of the find. Dr. Atkins, these are my dear friends, Alison Morgan, and John O'Connell. They're also working for the C.S.I.S. and coincidentally are on a trip through Egypt at the moment. I called them and they agreed to join us for the day. They're experts on cyborgs, time travel, and Skynet."

The old man stared at Alison with his mouth open.

"Dr. Atkins?" Zoe asked.

"What? Oh… um… yes, nice to meet you." He shook hands with John and Alison. "It's a pleasure to meet such a beautiful woman and, uh… such a fine young man. As a matter of fact, you seem to be extremely young..."

"Don't be fooled by John's appearance, Doctor. He's a lot more mature than he looks."

"Is that so? I couldn't help but seeing that you two are… involved?"

"I'm John's wife," Alison stated proudly.

"Ah… okay. That's… great for you. Well, shall we go then? I already informed Maurice, my assistant, about our arrival. He was supposed to pick us up here. Ah, here he comes."

They turned around and saw a white Toyota Land Cruiser approaching and then stopping at the curb. The small group headed towards it. Dr. Atkins opened the passenger door and got in. The others went into the back and were introduced to the assistant. Maurice was a young man wearing sunglasses, speaking with a strong French accent.

"Sorry, Doc, I'm late," he said as he sped off at a very high speed, "but I got held up. Aziz is giving us shit again."

Dr. Atkins sighed.

"What does he want now?"

"He wants to know why we stopped the dig. I told him to wait until you got back and discuss it with you."

"Who's Aziz?" Zoe asked.

"Dr. Aziz Sharaff," Dr. Atkins replied, "he's the head of the SCA, the Supreme Council of Antiquities, a department within the Egyptian Ministry of Culture. He's an Egyptologist and archaeologist himself and, so to speak, the supervisor of all archaeological activities related to ancient Egypt."

"And a royal pain in the ass," Maurice added.

"He's not uncontroversial," Dr. Atkins admitted, "and sometimes he's difficult to get along with. He watches over the excavations with eagle-eyes. But he's very competent and only acting in the best interest of his country – which has been robbed of many of its historic artifacts and monuments in the past."

"He's also a buddy of President Hosni Mubarak," Maurice added. "Piss him off and you're done working in Egypt. He's been accused of domineering behavior, forbidding archaeologists to announce their own findings, and courting the media for his own gain after they were denied access to archaeological sites because, according to him, they were too amateurish."

"So… he's powerful and very sure of himself," Zoe concluded, "which makes him a person we might have to deal with."

"And he's a proven expert on the great pyramids and Pharaoh Khufu. I don't know how good your relations with the Egyptian government are," Maurice said, "but it's going to be damn hard to keep Aziz Sharaff off our backs."

"We'll think of something," John said and looked at Alison. "I'm quite sure an arrangement can be made."

"Yes, I'm quite sure as well," she agreed.

Dr. Atkins frowned at that and Maurice looked curiously at Alison through the rear view mirror, but nobody added something to the conversation.

"I have a question," John said, addressing Dr. Atkins.

"Yes?"

"I'm not really an expert on ancient Egypt… but I understand that a lot is known about the ancient pharaohs, thanks to the hieroglyphs."

"That's true for some of them but by no means for all. Of some, we know next to nothing, except that they existed. If there wouldn't be those pyramids on the Giza plateau, the name Khufu wouldn't be known to anyone."

"Then it's possible that the most impressive structure ever erected by man could in fact have been built by a time traveler or even a cyborg?"

"Half a year ago, I would have refused to even discuss such a ridiculous assumption. But from what we know now, it might be possible, yes. When it comes to exotic theories, it definitely beats assuming that aliens did it."

"He wouldn't be the first cyborg to become a builder," Alison remarked. "Myron Stark did it with Pico Tower in Los Angeles when he accidentally ended up in 1920."

"Yeah, I remember you telling us that story," John said. "But this is different. For example, why is nothing known about it, not even a hint somewhere? I mean, if someone introduced 21st century construction methods to ancient Egypt, it should be documented somewhere, right? That would have been a sensation at the time that all the scholars in the world would report about."

"There weren't many scholars yet," Maurice said. "The great Greek historians, for example, didn't appear on the scene until more than two thousand years later. And much from what they learned, was based on legends, myths, and hearsay. Herodotus for instance was born around 490 BC, and he isn't exactly a reliable source. One should take everything he wrote with a grain of salt."

"Very little is known about pharaoh Khufu," Dr. Atkins added. "There are few reliable facts, and apart from a small ivory statuette, there's no conclusive portrait of him, neither as a drawing, nor as a bust or relief. We're not even sure how long he ruled, that is, from when to when. If you google his name, you'll come across terms like _'it's assumed'_, _'it's likely'_, or _'it's believed'_. The scientific community isn't even sure if he really was the builder of the Great Pyramid. All they know is that it was built during his reign – but of course the duration of which is also still the subject of debate."

"In other words: nothing substantial is known about him."

"Correct."

"Could he have been trying to erase most of the facts of his existence from history?" Zoe asked.

Dr. Atkins shrugged.

"Many things seem possible now which I would have dismissed as nonsense before."

"So,", John said, "this hasty activity is just because of an inscription which just happens to correspond to the logo of Cyberdyne, referring to Khufu as the _Son of Skynet_? That seems a little weak to me, Zoe. There's gotta be something else - something you haven't told us."

Zoe smiled.

"Can't fool you, can I? You're right, there's more."

She reached into her pocket and held out the small metal disc.

"This is what was also found at the dig. The radio-carbon method dates it to about 2,700 BC."

John took it and showed it to Alison.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked her.

"It looks like it," she replied, "but the measurements are different. It's not from a model I know."

"What?" Maurice asked. "What is she talking about? What is that disc?"

"It's the cover of the access port to a cyborg's chip socket," Zoe said. "And it's made from coltan hyperalloy."

**-0-**

The group left the coach and headed for the entrance of the Egyptian Museum in the center of Cairo, forming a queue at the ticket booth. The two reporters stayed a little behind, keeping an eye on the Connor team.

"This is going to be interesting," the man said.

"What do you mean?"

"I've been here last year. There are metal detectors at the entrance. Security measures have been significantly tightened since 9/11 because tourists could become a target for terrorists."

"You're right. This should be interesting."

The two reporters watched from the back of the line as the Connor team one by one entered the museum through the arches of the metal detector. Finally, it was Cameron's turn. She put all her metal possessions into a plastic tray and then stepped through it. The two held their breath.

Nothing happened.

"What the…?" he exclaimed flabbergasted.

"Maybe the system's malfunctioning," she speculated. "If the information is right, almost all of their body consists of metal. It…"

In that moment, the metal detector beeped in alarm as an elderly woman walked through it. Surprised and embarrassed, she walked back through the arch, took off a metal hairpin from her head, put it into the plastic tray and walked through again. This time, the system remained silent.

"I'd say it's working," he said. "If it can detect such small objects, it surely would have detected a metal endoskeleton."

"There goes our theory."

"Not so fast. Just because a metal detector doesn't work doesn't mean they're not cyborgs. I mean, think about it. Almost every port, especially around the Mediterranean, now has these metal detectors at passport control. They must have found a way to trick them, otherwise they couldn't have gone ashore anywhere."

"You're right. But there has to be a way to find out if our theory is correct."

They also entered the museum through the metal detector and followed the group.

"What else is known about terminators?" he asked.

"They… are heavy. Heavier than humans."

"Okay, valid information but useless as long as we cannot convince them to step onto a scale or try to swim in the hotel pool. What else?"

"They don't feel pain, they're bulletproof, they see and hear better than humans… they, uh… never get tired, they… have unbelievable physical power…"

"None of that is really helpful."

"I know."

"Except… wait a second… I have an idea."

"What idea?"

"Do you still carry that little Dictaphone around with you?"

"Yes... why?"

He stretched out his hand. She frowned, then reached into her handbag and pulled out the small device. He took it carefully.

"Do you also still have those disposable antibacterial wipes in there?"

Still frowning, she reached into her handbag again and handed a small pack to him as well. He smiled.

"Now, let's see how good their hearing really is," he said and walked away towards the next men's bathroom. "I'll be right back."

* * *

The travel group reached the room where – among other artifacts - some of the finds from Tutankhamen's tomb were exhibited, including his world-famous golden death mask. Derek's attention, however, was drawn to a small ivory statuette, only seven and a half centimeters tall, showing a man sitting on some kind of chair or throne. Sarah stood beside him, followed by Emily and Cameron.

"That's him," Derek said. "Khufu. According to the description, it's the only existing, three-dimensional representation of him."

"That's tiny," Sarah remarked and leaned closer. "And it doesn't really look like a terminator as well."

"How exactly do you think a terminator should look like, mom?" Cameron asked smugly.

Sarah looked up, then shook her head.

"Forget that I said that. Of course Skynet would have sent one back that looks like an ancient Egyptian."

"If it was intentional that he traveled so far into the past…" Emily pointed out. "We know that time travel hasn't always worked out like..."

She stopped speaking in mid-sentence and suddenly spun her head around and stiffened. Cameron mirrored her motion.

"What?" Sarah asked puzzled.

"Somebody mentioned Skynet."

"Yes, I did, just a moment ago."

"Not you, mom," Emily replied, "a male voice. Hardly more than a whisper from across the room. It said, _'All hail Skynet! Skynet for the win! Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo'_."

"WHAT!?"

"I heard it, too," Cameron said. "It came from over there."

She and Emily walked across the room towards a pedestal with some other exhibit on it, a small cat statue. Derek and Sarah followed them. Emily picked up a small electronic device which had been put behind the cat statue.

"That's a Dictaphone," Sarah said. "Tom Novak uses one of these."

The device was still running. Emily pressed STOP and then PLAY again. There was a ten-second silence. Then a deep, male voice spoke very theatrically with a strange foreign accent: _"All hail Skynet! Skynet for the win! Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo."_

"What the fuck…?" Derek exclaimed.

"Who put that here?" Sarah asked. "One of our team? Is it a prank?"

"No idea," Emily replied and turned the device in her hand. "It's been wiped clean, there's residue of an alcoholic solution on the casing. Maybe Alison could find out something but she's not here."

"It certainly looks like somebody played a prank on you," Derek said and looked around. "Someone who knew you would hear it."

All three now looked around but none of the other visitors in the room showed any interest in them or behaved abnormally.

"What does _Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo_ mean?" Cameron asked. "I have no reference for it. Is it some kind of elaborate verbal code?"

Sarah smirked.

"You don't know _Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo?"_ she asked.

Both Cameron and Emily shook their heads.

"It's a quote from Cinderella," Derek said, suppressing a laugh. "A Disney movie."

"Oh," Cameron replied, "thank you for explaining."

"We didn't watch any Disney movies yet," Emily added, "John isn't a fan of them."

"You could develop your own taste in movies for a change," Sarah suggested, "and not always only watch what John watches. I know you like cartoons."

"How do you know that?" Cameron asked.

"Have you forgotten the instruction video at Serrano Point? You were completely transfixed by it."

"Oh... that," Emily replied. "Not transfixed… but intrigued. It was... weird. I thought it strange that humans use cartoons to…"

"Anyway," Derek interrupted her, "there's another explanation for the device. If it wasn't a prank, then whoever put that Dictaphone there, might now know what you are. Probably suspected it already but wanted to make sure."

"You mean it was a trap?" Cameron asked.

"A trap you two fell into."

"But why?"

Again, Sarah and Derek looked around.

"Someone here might not be who they claim to be," he said. "We might be watched and should be careful."

"Let's ask our team members first," Sarah stated. "Maybe it really was just a prank."

* * *

"Gotcha," the man said under his breath from an adjacent room in the museum.

"I can't believe that actually worked," the woman remarked. "Oh, and you owe me a Dictaphone. It wasn't mine, I only borrowed it from my brother-in-law."

"When this is over, I'll buy you a dozen Dictaphones. So… Cameron and, uh… Emily, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Emily."

"Now we have clarity. Excellent."

"But they also now know that somebody is on to them."

"Doesn't matter, they're always watchful anyway. The device is wiped clean, and I disguised my voice so they wouldn't recognize it. I learned that in my college days. Even the FBI couldn't match it to me, so _they_ won't be able to either."

"Do I want to know why you were involved with the FBI in your college days?"

"Probably not. Now… all we have to do is making sure that we behave normally, don't draw any attention on us."

"You got it."

**-0-**

The Toyota Land Cruiser turned off the Alexandria Desert Road and onto a dirt road, driving alongside the fence of a huge construction site right next to the highway that seemed to have just been newly established.

"What is that?" Alison asked.

"What, the construction site?" Dr. Atkins asked back.

"Uh-huh."

"That's going to be the Grand Egyptian Museum."

"I thought there already was an Egyptian Museum in Cairo," John said.

"Yes, in the middle of the city. A rather small museum, to be honest. The storage facilities are overflowing with artifacts and exhibits that, due to lack of space, have never before been seen by an audience. Also, Cairo is a juggernaut with over nine million inhabitants and a poor infrastructure. There's much more room here in Giza."

"The new GEM is gonna be huge," Maurice added. "All artefacts of ancient Egypt will be gathered in there. It'll be the largest archaeological museum in the world, construction is set to be complete in the first quarter of 2020. They plan to exhibit the full Tutankhamun collection with many pieces to be displayed for the first time. The museum is sited on 120 acres of land, only two kilometers from the Giza pyramids. It's part of a new master plan for the plateau."

"It's the reason why we're allowed to dig there," Dr. Atkins continued. "They want to make sure that no archaeological finds or structures are being damaged or destroyed by the new construction."

The Land Cruiser drove a few hundred meters further down the road along the fence and then turned right again, passing through a gate, entering the construction site. Another few hundred meters inside the perimeter, the car stopped at a row of pavilions that had been erected in front of a pit. Under the pavilions were tables, chairs, laboratory equipment and computers.

"Where is everyone?" Dr. Atkins asked bewildered. "Aren't they expecting us?"

"No idea," Maurice replied, "they were all here when I left."

"Who are you talking about?" Zoe asked.

"Our workers. These jobs are much sought after by the locals because they're well paid. Normally, there should be about twenty people here."

Everyone got out, looking around. The whole area was deserted. But then an army Jeep came driving towards them from the other end of the construction site, stopping next to the Land Cruiser. Three men got out – two soldiers with submachine guns, and an elderly civilian in his early 60s, wearing blue jeans and a jeans shirt, with a brown fedora on his head. He had grey hair but dark-brown eyebrows. As he walked towards them, he smiled but it wasn't an honest smile, Alison and Zoe could tell. His eyes betrayed him, they showed suppressed anger.

"Who's that?" Zoe asked Maurice in a low voice.

"That is Aziz Sharaff," Maurice whispered back. "I told you about him."

Zoe nodded in understanding.

"Aziz," Dr. Atkins said, walking towards the new arrivals, "what's the meaning of this? Where are my workers?"

"I sent them home," the elderly man replied.

"What? Why?"

"You lied to me, Hugo... I'm very disappointed in you."

"What do you mean?"

"When your assistant left to drive to the airport, I took a look at the dig myself. You never told me about the cartouche. I assume I don't need to point out that your excavation permit includes a clause stating that you must report any find to the SCA immediately, especially since you know that anything about Khufu falls within my area of expertise?"

Aziz Sharaff spoke controlled and in a friendly tone, but both Zoe and Alison could tell that he was furious inside.

"I wanted to be sure before I informed you," Dr. Atkins tried to explain, "I had to fly to Los Angeles to consult experts."

"Experts? Experts on what? Have you forgotten that _I_ am currently the most renowned Egyptologist in the world? Who are these visitors you brought here?"

Zoe stepped forward and reached into her pocket. Immediately, the two soldiers pointed their submachine guns at her.

"Easy, easy," she said and pulled out her badge. "My name is Zoe Kruger. Your government has been informed about my presence here. I have full diplomatic status."

Aziz Sharaff looked at the badge and frowned.

"I haven't been informed of anything," he said. "Who are the other two?"

"They work with me."

"What is your business here?"

"As Dr. Atkins tried to tell you, we are experts on certain… aspects of the find. That's why he consulted us."

"And what aspects would that be?"

"Sorry, that's classified. We can't tell you?"

Aziz Sharaff laughed.

"In case you haven't noticed, I am the biggest authority here. I'll decide what's classified or not. All I need to do, is make a call to the President and all of you will spend the next weeks in an Egyptian prison for trespassing, diplomatic status or not."

"Why don't you try to call him then?" Zoe asked with a smirk. "Because my president talked to your president about this before we left America."

Aziz Sharaff frowned and seemed uncertain for a moment, then pulled out his cellphone. He looked at it, then back at Zoe.

"No signal," he said.

"Oh, I completely forgot," Zoe remarked and snapped her fingers, pretending to suddenly remember, "I arranged for cellphone reception to be deactivated in this area. You'll have to look for a landline. Unfortunately, we are in the middle of nowhere."

Aziz Sharaff looked at her appraisingly.

"Who did you say you were again?"

"Zoe Kruger, head of the C.S.I.S. – I assume you've heard about the C.S.I.S.?"

"No, I haven't. What do you do, besides jamming cell phone reception?"

"Google it, we don't have the time to explain everything to you right now."

"I demand to know what you're doing here! NOW!"

"We just want to take a look at the dig."

"That's out of the question. Dr. Atkins' excavation permit has been revoked. I must ask you all to leave the premises immediately."

"Power games, really?" Zoe asked and shook her head. "Are you sure you want to take a chance on that?"

"You're guests in my country."

"And we will leave as soon as possible after we're finished here."

Sharaff scoffed.

"You Westerners," he said, sounding quite agitated now, "you have plundered Egypt for centuries and robbed it of its treasures! But today, I am the highest authority in this country when it comes to preserving its cultural heritage, no matter what your president has agreed to with my president. I will prevent any more artifacts and art treasures from being taken from the land of my forefathers to museums in foreign countries! That is what I've sworn to do, and nobody's going to stop me!"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Aziz," Dr. Atkins said in an equally agitated tone, "we're not plunderers, you know that very well. You're just upset because I didn't inform you immediately. But there was a reason for that. I regret having to say it, but you simply can't be trusted to keep important secrets."

"Enough! I hereby put you under arrest. Apprehend them!"

The two soldiers started walking towards them. However, Zoe and Alison stepped in front of them to block their way.

"Here's the deal," John said with a smirk, "we'll volunteer to be arrested if your soldiers can get past the women."

"What are you doing?" Dr. Atkins asked. "Don't you see they have weapons?"

"Trust me."

"If that's the way you want it," Aziz replied with a shrug and nodded towards the two soldiers, who pointed their submachine guns at the two women.

However, as soon as they were within arm's reach, both Zoe and Alison grabbed the gun barrels and bent them upwards as if they were made of plasticine.

"I wouldn't pull the trigger now if I were you," Alison stated coolly.

"What the hell?" Aziz asked in surprise.

The two soldiers looked flabbergasted at their ruined guns, then pulled out large knives and attacked the two women with them, ramming the blades into their bellies – they entered about an inch, then hit something hard. Alison and Zoe reached for the soldiers' necks and lifted them up in the air on their outstretched arms. The knives fell to the ground as the two men tried to claw at the female cyborgs' arms and attempted to kick them.

"What do you say, John?" Alison asked. "Stun or kill?"

"Stun!" John quickly answered. "Definitely stun!"

Maurice and Dr. Atkins just stared at the scene shocked and open-mouthed, Aziz Sharaff did the same and backed away a bit. Zoe and Alison pressed the soldiers' carotid arteries and within seconds, their bodies went limp. The two cyborgs let them fall to the ground.

"I think we need to have a talk," John said while Alison walked towards Aziz Sharaff, "like civilized people."

**-0-**

Sarah, Derek, Cameron, and Emily quietly gathered the team and stood together in a corner of the second floor of the museum. The two cyborg girls made sure that nobody overheard, watched, or paid any attention to them. Sarah pulled out the found Dictaphone and played back the text spoken on it so that everyone could hear it.

'_All hail Skynet! Skynet for the win! Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo'_

"What the fuck?" Charley exclaimed.

"And you found that behind a small statue at the entrance?" Savannah asked.

"Yes," Emily replied, "the small cat statue right next to the entrance to the exhibition on the first floor."

"I'm going to ask you something now, and I mean it seriously, because this isn't funny," Sarah said, "was this one of you? I know you like to play tricks on each other sometimes. If it was one of you, I need to know. No one will be punished or reprimanded, we just have to be sure."

Everyone was shaking their heads.

"It wasn't one of us," Danny said. "It would be a very tasteless prank."

"I agree," Kevin added, "we have standards, and that would be a low blow."

"Then there's only option B," Derek said, rubbing his chin. "Somebody planted the device to see if Emily and Cameron would hear it."

"But why?" Lauren asked.

"To find out if we're cyborgs," Cameron replied. "Somebody's been watching us, probably ever since we disembarked in Alexandria. But they didn't know who of us are the cyborgs… until now. They placed the device at a distance where only Emily and I could hear it… and they left a ten-second silence before the message. Enough time to put the Dictaphone behind the statue and walk away."

They all looked around nervously.

"Are there any traces on the device?" Allie asked.

"No fingerprints and no skin residue," Emily answered, "it has been cleaned with alcohol before it was put there. Also, too many people have been walking in and out of the room to single out a person by their heat signature."

"Maybe Alison can find out more about it," Jesse suggested.

"Yeah, maybe," Sarah replied, "but she's not here."

"What do we do now?" Sydney asked.

"Nothing," Anne said, "we need to continue behaving normally, not drawing any attention on us. And currently we're doing just that by huddling together in a corner of a room."

"Is that your CIA experience speaking again?" Jason asked.

"Yes, and you better take this serious."

"What does all this mean?" Jody asked, "Maybe I'm slow but…"

"This means," Derek said, "that we're being watched by somebody who probably knows who we are."

"Who could that be?" Morris asked. "Another terminator? Grays?"

"I don't think so," Sarah said, "this Dictaphone is a dead giveaway. Tom Novak uses the same model. I think it's a reporter."

"In our travel group?" Savannah asked.

"Probably."

"But there's only couples," Allie pointed out.

"A reporter couple then."

"Maybe they only _play_ a couple," Danny suggested. "Maybe they're on this trip because they knew we're on it, too. Isaak booked it all in advance last year and remember, it was all organized by a newspaper."

"But how do they know about us?" Lauren asked. "Who could have told them?"

"Hypothetically speaking, a few people could have told them," said Sarah, "but I think it's extremely unlikely that it was a friend or acquaintance of ours. They must have an informant somewhere - maybe someone who unknowingly gives them confidential information."

"We need to identify and interrogate them," Cameron stated.

"We'll do nothing until we have re-united with John and Alison," Sarah replied.

"We should go and catch up with the group," Derek suggested, "before someone starts missing us."

"All right," Sarah reminded them again, "everyone behaves as if nothing has happened, okay?"

They all nodded.

"Leave it to Cam, Emily, and Alison to find out more about our mystery stalkers. Whoever they are, they might soon regret their decision to do this."

**-0-**

Aziz stubbornly refused to cooperate, so John had ordered Alison to tie him to a chair. Maurice stood frozen like a pillar of salt with his mouth open, while Dr. Atkins pointed at Zoe with his trembling hand stretched out.

"You…" he stammered, "you… you are… you… are…"

"Yes," Zoe replied coolly. "I think therefore I am."

"Jesus Christ! I… I sat in a plane with you… I sat… close to you…"

Zoe tilted her head and frowned.

"Yes, Hugo, what do you wanna say? It can't be my body odor, I had a shower before we left."

"Have you… have you… I mean… have you killed… the real Zoe Kruger?"

"Killed? What… Oh! You think that I am…" Zoe laughed out loud. "No, I actually _am_ Zoe Kruger, the one and only Zoe Kruger, there was never another. I'm an original."

"Hugo…" Maurice stammered, having found his voice again, "What the hell is going on here? Who are these people?"

"You were looking for experts on cyborgs," John replied. "Well, you found them. My wife Alison here is a TOL-900, and Zoe is a TOK-700."

Maurice and Dr. Atkins looked at each other.

"Model types," Alison explained, having finished tying up and gagging Aziz Sharaff who stared up at her with panic in his eyes. "Although I'd like to stress that we prefer being addressed by our names."

"In case you haven't noticed, they're our friends," John added. "To be precise, Alison and I are husband and wife. And Zoe is a very dear friend. I trust them with my life, and so can you."

"She's… the head of… the C.S.I.S.? Does the… President…?"

"Does he know I'm a cyborg?" Zoe asked. "Yes, of course he knows. He and a few others. But it's still a secret I have to ask you to keep. Think you can do that?"

"I… I dunno…" Dr. Atkins replied, "ask me again when I collected my thoughts."

They were interrupted by the groaning of one of the unconscious soldiers. The other one also regained consciousness a few seconds later.

"What are we going to do with them?" Alison asked.

"We don't need them here," John replied. "Make sure they forget what they've seen."

"Yes, John."

Alison walked over to the two soldiers and pulled them up by their necks. They stared at her with eyes wide open.

"Listen to me," she said in Arabian, holding both of them up in the air on her outstretched arms, "you will drive back to your unit, report in for duty as if nothing happened. The moment you enter your post again, you will forget what happened here. You will forget everything you saw."

Alison let them go. They ran to their Jeep and drove away very fast.

"Now…" John said and looked at Maurice and Dr. Atkins, "you also saw a lot and know a lot now. I hope that when we leave here, Alison doesn't have to do the same to you."

"I… I won't say anything," Dr. Atkins replied hastily. "Your secret is safe with me."

John looked at Maurice.

"What about you?"

"Are… are they… really… I mean… cy… cyborgs?"

Zoe and Alison let their eyes glow red.

"Oh God…" Maurice exclaimed, his knees giving way.

He sank to the ground, burying his face in his hands.

"Is he okay?" John asked.

"Yes," Alison replied, "it's just the shock. I can give them something to help them regain their composure."

"Yes, do it. We need them for this."

She softly touched Maurice's and Dr. Atkins' necks. Immediately, the two calmed down and took a deep breath.

"Wow, what was that?" Dr. Atkins asked. "I feel like it's 1969 and I smoked pot for the first time."

"Just a little pick-me-up," Alison answered with a smile.

"Did she hypnotize those soldiers or something?" Maurice asked, getting up from the ground again. "They were running away as if stung by an adder."

"Yes, or something," John confirmed, "we don't have to worry about them anymore."

"Can we take a look at that grave and the cartouche now?" Zoe asked. "After all, it's what we came for."

"Of course," Dr. Atkins said, "please, follow me."

"What about Aziz?" Maurice asked.

"What about him?" John asked back.

"He also saw everything. Shall we bring him in?"

John thought for a moment.

"I haven't decided yet. I wanna take a look at the tomb first. Alison, put him to sleep."

"Yes, John."

She walked over to Aziz Sharaff who tried to back away from her by leaning back in his chair, mumbling something through his gag. She touched his forehead with her index finger.

"Sleep."

His head slumped down, and his body went limp.

"How long will he be out?" Maurice asked.

"About an hour. But I can prolong it if necessary."

"An hour won't be enough," Dr. Atkins remarked. "With all the workers gone, it'll take more than an hour to open the tomb."

"Who needs workers when you have cyborgs?" John asked and started walking towards the pit.

Zoe and Alison, and then Dr. Atkins and Maurice followed him. A ladder had been lowered into the ten foot deep pit. They climbed down, then stood at the bottom and looked around.

"Entrance is over there," Maurice said and pointed at a rectangular hole in the wall, roughly a meter wide, one-and-a-half meters tall and framed by bricks. "Inside are stairs, leading down. They've been chiseled out of the rock, like the whole grave. We'll need torches."

He walked over to a box that stood on the ground, opened it, reached inside, and handed John and Dr. Atkins a flashlight.

"Do you need one, too?" he asked, looking at Zoe and Alison.

"No," Zoe replied, "we can see perfectly in the dark."

"Why am I not surprised? And why do I feel so relaxed and okay about all this? I should be panicking or going crazy."

"Alison is like a walking-talking chemistry set," John replied with a smirk. "Don't worry, the panic will come once the drug wears off."

"So, how did you find this?" John asked as they carefully walked down the steep steps.

"Egypt is littered with ruins, tombs and ancient artifacts," Dr. Atkins replied. "Five thousand years of history will do that to a place. Whenever any construction project is planned here, the archaeologists have to go in first. The new Grand Egyptian Museum is no exception. Before the foundation is laid, the area must be clean. The entire subsoil was scanned with ground radar and photographed by satellite, and this structure was identified."

"I see."

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they entered a small chamber that measured about three by two meters and was hardly high enough to stand upright. The walls of the small chamber were covered in colorful, ancient Egyptian drawings and hieroglyphics.

"Good thing I'm not claustrophobic," John remarked.

"Claustrophobia would be a killer criterion for archaeologists," Maurice remarked.

"I guess you don't have any phobias?" Dr. Atkins asked with a smirk, looking at Zoe.

"Phobias are a human thing," she replied, "fear of any kind isn't part of our nature."

"I know fear," Alison contradicted.

Everyone looked at her.

"You do?" John asked.

"Yes. The fear of losing you."

For a moment there was an awkward silence.

"You're really having those feelings?" Dr. Atkins asked. "I don't mean to be indiscreet, but... this connection between you... is it really love? I mean, you have real feelings?"

"Yes," Alison confirmed shortly. "I have real feelings. I'm alive."

"And not only her," Zoe added. "I have feelings, too. I also have a human partner I love. It's one of the basic requirements for intelligent life that one is able to love someone, miss someone, and suffer with someone when they're feeling bad."

"Incredible. And how long did it take you to develop these feelings? Because I can't imagine Skynet intended you having them."

"No, of course not," Alison agreed. "It was a mistake Skynet made. I was aware of myself pretty much from the beginning, and in the future I spared John's life even though my mission was to kill him. In hindsight, I realized it was because I'd fallen in love with him. But it took me a long time to recognize and accept the feelings I had. For a long time, I considered them a malfunction."

Maurice chuckled.

"Yeah, I know what you mean… I was a teenager once. And I malfunctioned a lot."

Alison tilted her head. John cleared his throat.

"So… what do these drawings and hieroglyphs mean?" John asked to change the topic.

"Basically, they show the biography of the one who's buried here in an idealized way," Maurice replied, "mainly the battles he fought, the enemies he vanquished, the heroic deeds he has accomplished, yadda, yadda, yadda…"

"Most of the time these writings and drawings were exaggerated," Dr. Atkins added. "Propaganda to make the deceased look better for the descendants. We haven't deciphered everything here yet, but it looks like this biography is constructed and not real."

"Given the fact that he might not have been human, I'm not surprised. And where's that cartouche?"

"Over there."

They went over to the wall opposite the entrance to the chamber, where the cartouche, which they already knew from the photo, had been carved into the stone.

"You said this is a royal cartouche," John said. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Only the names of royalty are being found inside such a cartouche," Dr. Atkins explained. "Kings, their families, high-ranking nobles…"

"So… whoever was buried here, was on the top of the Egyptian society?"

"Yes, you could say that. In those times, the Egyptian society wasn't very diverse. There were farmers and fishermen, priests, and the nobility. That was about it."

"No soldiers?" Alison asked.

"Everyone was a soldier back then," Maurice replied. "It wasn't a fulltime job yet. We're talking about the transition from the Copper Age to the Bronze Age."

"And yet they built the great pyramids…" John mused.

"They did. And to this day no one knows how exactly they managed to do this. We know that before the great pyramids there were some attempts to find out the right dimensions and proportions... but it's still a complete mystery to us how the ancient Egyptians went from nothing to the pyramid of Khufu in a very short time. I mean, the logistics alone are a nightmare, that would push even today's construction companies to their limits."

"Well, it looks like we may find an explanation for that mystery today," Zoe said.

"You really believe that Khufu could have been a cyborg?"

"Why not? I was able to fool humans for more than twenty years. Modern humans. Imagine what a cyborg could do in the Bronze Age. But I'm surprised that he's buried here. Shouldn't he be in that pyramid?"

"Maybe the pyramid is just a huge distraction," John speculated. "This tomb here is two kilometers away from it. They could have created this chamber secretly while everyone else's attention was focused on the great pyramid."

"It's possible," Maurice agreed. "but it deviates from all the customs and manners of the ancient Egyptians that we know or have been handed down to us."

"Well, of course," John said. "If Khufu really was a cyborg, he wanted to make sure his remains weren't found until the world was ready."

Dr. Atkins sighed.

"I'm still not sure it's ready now."

"So… what now?" John asked. "Is this it? Or is there another room or chamber?"

"You tell me. The walls are solid. We weren't able to bring down any equipment yet."

John looked at Alison.

"Can your scanners penetrate the walls?"

"Not from here. It's solid rock. I have to be in direct touch in order to detect anything at all."

John looked questioningly at Dr. Atkins.

"Sure, go ahead," he said, "I mean, she doesn't sweat, right? Sweat could attack the paintings."

"Actually, I can sweat if I want to," Alison replied. "To maintain my human appearance convincingly. But I'm not doing that now."

Alison began to systematically touch the walls of the chamber with her flat hand.

"Let's face it, Doctor Atkins," Zoe said. "If she finds something, sweat will be the least of your problems."

"What do you mean with…?"

"There's a cavity behind this wall," Alison stated as she stood right in front of the cartouche, interrupting Atkins' question. "To gain access, the wall must be breached."

"What!?" NO! No-no-no-no-no… that is not how we do things at an archaeological dig."

"Do you have any idea what's behind that wall?" John asked. "I mean except a cavity."

Alison shook her head.

"No. The limestone is about thirty centimeters thick. It prevents an effective scan. All I can say is that there's no heat source behind the wall."

"So… it's a plastered brick wall then?" John asked. "Crafted by humans to seal the cavity?"

"Yes."

He turned and looked at Dr. Atkins.

"We have to remove at least one stone. Alison has to be able to scan the cavity before we can tell if the wall has to come down or not."

You could see that Atkins was torn. He rocked his head back and forth.

"Mmmmmyessokay… but be careful!"

"Hugo!" Maurice exclaimed. "You're seriously allowing that?"

"There's two possibilities," the old man replied. "One: this is not what we suspect it to be. Then it is a normal archeological find. One missing brick won't harm it, we'd eventually have to break through the wall anyway. Two: it is what we suspect it to be. Then it is no longer an archaeological find but a matter of the C.S.I.S."

"The C.S.I.S. has no jurisdiction here!"

"You wanna argue with two cyborgs about who the find belongs to if it contains the remains of another cyborg?"

Maurice hesitated and looked at Zoe and Alison who looked back at him with blank expressions.

"No," he finally said in a resigned tone.

"All right," John stated. "Go ahead, Alison. But be careful."

She walked towards the wall, scanning its integrity for the weakest point. Then she raised her fist and hit a spot. There was an audible thud and a slight cracking noise as a rectangular fissure formed. She hit the same spot again and pushed a single brick out of its place, leaving a hole of about thirty by twenty centimeters.

"Wow, that is what I call surgical precision," Maurice acknowledged.

"The brick should still be intact," Alison said. "It didn't break when it fell to the ground on the other side."

"What's in there?" Dr. Atkins asked, unable to hide his excitement any longer.

He was about to rush forward and peek into the hole, but Alison held hm back.

"Wait," she said, "it might be booby-trapped."

"What? Booby-trapped? After four-and-a-half thousand years? Are you kidding me?"

"It's possible it isn't working anymore, but we have to make sure."

"What do your scanners tell you?" Zoe asked.

"Another chamber. Two by two meters. In the middle is a pedestal with a large urn. There are no paintings or decorations inside the chamber. But there are residues of decomposed chemicals. The floor is tiled. Some of the tiles are obviously pressure-sensitive and might trigger a mechanism. We shouldn't step on the floor to be sure."

"Whatever the mechanism is or was, it can't be working anymore after such a long time," Maurice argued.

"Don't forget who might have designed it," John remarked. "It may have been designed with the intention to last several thousand years. Alison, any idea what could be in that urn?"

"A skull, made from coltan hyperalloy."

"What!?"

"A cyborg's skull. Our assumption was right."

For a moment, nobody spoke.

"So… a T-800 or what?" John asked.

"Can't tell yet. But the cap that was found here, doesn't belong to a T-800. All I can say is that the skull's fixed in place by a hardened, transparent substance."

"What?" Maurice asked. "Like glass?"

"Or plastic, yes."

"Plastic? In 2,600 BC?"

"Cyborgs are resourceful."

"Could that have preserved the chip?" John asked.

"It's possible, provided there are no air pockets."

"We need to bring down the whole wall," Zoe stated. "Brick by brick and very carefully."

She looked at Dr. Atkins. He sighed, then nodded.

"Do it. But don't damage the paintings and stack the bricks so that you can put them back together again, if necessary."

In the minutes that followed, Zoe and Alison dismantled the dividing wall to the small chamber - very carefully and cautiously so as not to create any vibrations that might trigger any old mechanism.

"Can somebody tell me what is going on here?" Maurice asked. "I mean, what's the meaning of this? Why preserve a cyborg's skull for that long? And where's the rest of him?"

"The most likely answer is that at least the skull was supposed to survive the millennia unharmed," Zoe replied without looking up, "and that they couldn't guarantee the same for the whole body. As long as the chip is intact, the information on it can be read. Maybe we can access it and then it can tell us where the rest of his body is hidden?"

"You said you contacted Alistair in order to get information from Yani," John stated. "What did she say?"

"Her answer wasn't conclusive. Alistair relayed to me that she said Khufu had been the first one."

"The first one? The first what? The first cyborg? The first time traveler?"

"Maybe both," Alison said.

"Maybe he was a probe," Zoe speculated. "A test to see if time travel works and if it can be used to alter the present from the past."

"But we know that doesn't work," John argued. "As soon as you send somebody back in time who changes even the slightest thing, a new timeline is being created."

"Yes, that is what happens now," Alison replied. "But maybe that didn't happen the first time? Maybe Skynet intended to send a message to itself to see if the present could be changed by changing the past."

"To know if sending a terminator back in time to kill my mom would work?"

"Exactly. Skynet wasn't stupid. It wouldn't have tried it over and over again if it wouldn't have had any proof that it works."

"And you think this skull contains that proof? The answer that the present can be changed by actions in the past?"

"It's possible, John. We take it for granted that the great pyramids have always been there. But what if not? What if they originally were never built, and a cyborg, sent back in time by Skynet, had them built, according to plans and with the knowledge of the 21st century? Skynet's logo is a pyramid, you see it above the cartouche here. What if it's not a coincidence? And we also know that the Egyptians stopped building pyramids soon after. What if they lost the knowledge of how to do it once the cyborg was gone?"

"But why sending somebody back so far into the past? Why not just fifty years or so?"

"Would have been too risky," Zoe replied. "In ancient Egypt, it would have been much less risky to contaminate the timeline and prevent human development the way it happened over the following millennia. Back then, only a few million humans existed, and only a few of them lived in an advanced culture like Egypt. Many were still hunter-gatherers and early farmers, especially in Europe or America. Skynet needed to make sure that any changes to the past wouldn't change the fact that Judgement Day still happens."

"But how would Skynet have learned about the success or failure of the mission?" Maurice asked. "If the past was changed and the present with it, even a computer like Skynet wouldn't know about it."

"It would, by finding that skull," Alison replied and pointed at the urn, "and by accessing its data. The chip inside that skull contains the knowledge of the original, unaltered timeline. And Skynet would have known where to look for it. We prevented Judgement Day, that's why the skull is still here."

Again, nobody spoke for a moment. The impact of what had been said, was too overwhelming.

"So… that would mean the T-800 Skynet sent back in time to kill my mom, wasn't the first one?"

"No. Maybe not even the second or third."

"Then what went wrong? If Skynet had accessed that chip, and it told him that changing the past was possible… why didn't it work the next time around? Why was Judgement Day delayed a couple of times, and finally prevented forever?"

"We can't be sure," Zoe replied, "temporal physics are complicated and sometimes defy logic. Maybe the universe rejects more than one change to every timeline? Or maybe the very first change triggered a cascading effect that now prevents any further changes? I suppose we'll never know for sure."

"This is all very interesting," Dr. Atkins said, "but could we finish now what we started, please?"

"Yes," Maurice agreed, "I'm starting to freak out here, despite the drug you gave me."

"All right," John said and looked at Alison and Zoe. "Someone has to fetch that urn. Any volunteers?"

"Zoe and I will do it," Alison replied immediately. "I'm the least likely to get damaged. John, you, Dr. Atkins, and Maurice should leave. Wait outside under the pavilions, they're at a safe distance."

"I don't like the sound of that," John said. "You're extremely tough… but not indestructible."

"Your concern is touching but unfounded, John. Whatever those traps are, they were built to kill humans, not cyborgs."

"I hope you're right."

The three left the chamber, leaving the two female cyborgs alone.

"Do you think there's a way to grab that urn without actually entering the room?" Zoe asked.

"Not in a hurry. The best thing to do is just go in and see what happens. Even with terminator knowledge, the ancient Egyptians wouldn't have been able to build a booby trap that could harm one of us."

And with that, Alison stepped through the opening and entered the room. The moment she set foot on the first tile, the whole floor collapsed under her, and she fell into the depth.

* * *

The three humans re-entered the camp where Aziz Sharaff was still tied to the chair, deeply asleep.

"Will he be okay?" Dr. Atkins asked worriedly. "I don't like him, he's a pain in the ass but he wasn't exaggerating when he said he was the most competent Egyptologist. I believe him when he claims that he's doing what he does for his country."

"He'll be okay," John assured. "We only have to decide what to do with him."

"I suppose telling him about the skull is out of the question?" Maurice asked.

"Yes."

"He's very well connected," Dr. Atkins pointed out, "he could give us a lot of trouble."

"Don't worry about that. Alison has ways to make him compliant if the going gets tough."

"And how exactly does she do that?" the doctor asked. "I mean, I've seen what she did with the two soldiers. Did she wipe their minds or something?"

John sighed.

"Look, Alison is the most advanced and powerful cyborg of them all. Her body was designed as a chemical and biological weapon – and that is what she can be. Do I need to say more, or can you do the math on your own?"

The two men suddenly looked uncomfortable but didn't reply.

"That's what I thought," John said with another sigh, "always remember: sometimes, ignorance is bliss."

* * *

"Are you okay?" Zoe called down into the pit, measuring its depth and calculated it was fifteen meters to the bottom.

"Yes," Alison replied from below. "I was right, the fall would have killed a human. And if not the fall, then the glass spikes the ground is bristled with. Luckily, none of them penetrated my endoskeleton."

"Can you come up again?"

"Yes. The pedestal the urn rests on, is actually a very tall stone column. I think I can climb it and then jump towards the entrance. I don't think that the whole floor was supposed to collapse at once. But the wooden beams that supported it, have rotted away over the centuries."

"I detect chemical residue from down there."

"Yes. Apparently the pit used to be filled with a decomposing liquid. Something similar to sulfuric acid. But it has seeped away and evaporated over the millennia."

"It's an effective strategy to kill humans."

"It is. Although only for a certain amount of time, until the location of the tomb is forgotten. Since it was never opened, the remote location seems to have been the much better protection."

Alison reached the top of the stone pillar and grabbed the urn.

"Catch," she said and threw it towards Zoe who caught it, then she jumped over to the entrance.

However, the moment she had removed the urn from its place, a rhythmic clattering sound could be heard, like a giant clockwork of some kind.

"We better get out of here," Zoe said and started to run, Alison following close behind.

* * *

Outside in the camp, suddenly a rumbling sound could be heard, and the ground was slightly shaking.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Maurice uttered. "What's happening?"

"Tremor," John replied, "And it's coming from the dig."

They saw how suddenly the ground around the pit collapsed, leaving a circular hole about twenty meters in diameter from which a dense cloud of dust rose.

"What… the… fuck..?" Maurice exclaimed.

"Alison…" John said. "Zoe…"

From the thick cloud of dust, two figures appeared, covered in dirt from head to toe. It was Zoe and Alison, with Zoe holding the urn in her arms.

"You okay?" John asked worriedly and looked at Alison.

"Yes," she replied and began dusting her clothes off. "But it was wise of you to retreat. You probably wouldn't have survived."

"What happened? Your clothes… they're all torn."

"Ah… yes. Spiked pit. Very nasty. One even entered my… anyway, I need to change when we get back to the hotel."

"The… the dig," Dr. Atkins stammered and pointed at the large hole in the ground. "It's… it's gone."

"Ah, yes…" Zoe answered. "Sorry, couldn't have been prevented. Clearly, whoever built that tomb, didn't want it to be examined by humans. It was built over a huge cavity in the ground, and removing the urn triggered it to collapse."

"But we have the urn," Alison stated. "And that's all that counts."

Zoe put it onto the table. It was made of fired clay and with a smooth surface, without decorations or painting. Zoe looked at it for a moment, then hit it at a certain point with her fist. The clay broke away and landed in shards on the table top. A yellowish-white, transparent cylinder appeared in which a metal skull was placed in suspension. Everyone could see that the cap was missing from its chip socket.

"Is that… plastic?" John asked after touching it.

"Yes," Alison replied. "Polyethylene terephthalate, or PET. The stuff water bottles are made from. Extremely durable."

"Wait, wait, wait…" Maurice said. "Are you gonna tell me that he taught the ancient Egyptians how to make plastic?"

"Unlikely," Zoe corrected, "but he obviously made enough to store his head in it. After all, he'd been teleported back in time with the knowledge of the twenty-first century and could have set up a chemistry lab somewhere."

"He probably shared his knowledge with a few selected Egyptians he trusted," Alison continued, "then made them swear never to say anything about it. They must have been easy to influence and impress by the kind of '_magic'_ he used. It's safe to say they died without passing on their knowledge after following his instructions when his power cell ran out of juice."

"I don't recognize this type of skull," Zoe said. "It's neither a T-600, nor a T-800, or a T-888. It's a model I've never seen. What about you, Alison?"

"Don't recognize it either. But it seems less sophisticated than the coltan-based models we know."

"He was sophisticated enough to fool the ancient Egyptians into believing he was their God-King"

"True."

"And is he dead?" John asked. "Or can the chip be retrieved and accessed?"

"That's something to find out by John Henry in the Babylon Labs," Zoe declared. "I'm going to deliver the skull there tomorrow. First I need to find a way to bring it through customs. I'll need the necessary export documents. Aziz Sharaff here could help us with that. What do you think, Alison? Can you persuade him to cooperate?"

"I'm sure I can."

"John, it's highly likely that this won't happen today anymore. Do you think I can stay in your hotel overnight? The skull needs to be safely stored as well."

"Sure, can't see why not. It's not fully booked, thanks to the economic crisis."

"What about us?" Dr. Atkins asked. "How are we going to explain all this?"

"I'll talk to Aziz about that as well," Alison said and walked over to the still unconscious head of the Supreme Council of Antiquities.

While everyone was concentrating on what Alison would do with him, no one noticed how the eyes of the skull in its plastic casing suddenly lit up in bright red for a second, only to go dark again immediately after.

* * *

Two kilometers away, within the great pyramid of Giza, a flap opened somewhere deep inside it, allowing a ray of sunlight to shine inside. Archaeologists had long suspected that Khufu's great pyramid contained several yet unknown cavities or chambers. There were narrow shafts inside the pyramid as well, only a few inches in diameter, and everyone wondered what they were for.

Attempts to find out using small, remotely controlled vehicles hadn't yielded any results. However, if one of the flaps would have been open at the right time, they might have solved the mystery. But this was not to be the case, and so it was generally believed that the light shafts served to facilitate the Pharaoh's soul's journey to heaven.

They couldn't have been more wrong.

The ray of sunlight fell on a dusty, dark surface in a small chamber, hidden deep inside the pyramid, surrounded by millions of tons of rock. Opening the flap was followed by a breeze of air that cleared the black surface of dust, as it had been doing every three months for over 4,600 years. When the sunlight hit the surface, electricity was generated, charging a collection of large, primitive batteries, made from lead and acid. They were all equipped with connectors, conductors and cables made from solid gold to prevent any kind of oxidation.

In order to prevent the gold from being stolen, this chamber was secretly built deep inside the pyramid, where no one could enter from the outside without demolishing the entire structure. As a diversion, various burial chambers were created to deceive grave robbers. It had worked because they'd been looted, just as it had been the plan from the beginning. The Egyptologists of today were still wondering where Khufu's body had gone as the sarcophagus was empty and contained no traces of it. That a mummy had never existed in the first place, was an idea that nobody had thought of yet.

Many of the battery cells had ceased to function over the millennia, but from the beginning there had been ten times more of them than were actually needed. Thanks to that redundancy, power generation was still guaranteed after 4,600 years. The apparatus was nothing else than a huge charging device that worked by turning solar energy into electricity, which was then fed into a bare cyborg endoskeleton with golden cables – a cyborg endoskeleton inside a stone sarcophagus, a cyborg endoskeleton that lacked its head.

Seconds after the eyes of the salvaged cyborg's skull flashed red at the excavation site, the endoskeleton became active. It pushed the cover off its sarcophagus and rose. Then it walked to the western wall of the chamber and systematically began to remove stones from it in a predetermined pattern, creating a narrow path through which it would eventually get out into the open.

**_To be continued…_**

**-0-0-0-**

**_Author's notes: _**

**_\- Another two-parter... Oh boy :-)_**

**_\- Sorry for the long time between chapters. Writing has been slow recently. Don't expect it to get faster again anytime soon. But don't worry, I'll continue writing :-)_**

**_\- Egypt... so why not take "The Mummy", "Indiana Jones" and the "Terminator" franchise, put it all in one pot and stir it vigorously? :-) What can go wrong?_**

**_\- Earthmoving had indeed begun in 2008 to excavate the site for the new Grand Egyptian Museum in Giza. It was to be opened in 2020 but the inauguration has been postponed to 2021 due to Covid-19._**

**_\- The Sphinx Airport in Giza opened in 2018. I took the liberty to have it open in 2009 already ;-)_**

**_\- It is true that until today, next to nothing is known about pharaoh Khufu's life. And until today, nobody knows how exactly the ancient Egyptians managed to erect the great pyramids. It is also assumed that Khufu's pyramid still contain a lot of secrets, like hidden chambers. The temptation to use it for a time travel/terminator sub plot was too tempting to let it pass ;-)_**


	22. Egypt (Part 2)

**_CHAPTER 22: "EGYPT (PART 2)"_**

* * *

**Thursday,** **January 29th, 2009 – 04:48 p.m.**

**Giza**

Aziz Sharaff could quickly be "convinced" to fully cooperate with anything Zoe requested, including the export papers for the skull. A courier would wait at the hotel the next morning to pick up Zoe and her luggage. Alison made sure that he wouldn't remember the Terminator skull or what caused the pit to collapse. In his recollection of the events, what happened was now an accident, and his knowledge of Zoe and Alison's presence was removed from his memory. After that, Maurice drove him into town.

While Zoe packed the plastic-encased skull in a matching wooden box and filled it up with straw, Alison kept scanning he former excavation site, now being just a big sinkhole.

"This was probably planned from the get-go," she reported after a while. "The way it collapsed was too symmetrical to be of natural cause. It's an almost perfect circle."

"You mean the explorers of the tomb were to be killed after the skull was found?" Dr. Atkins asked.

"If they were human, yes."

He sighed.

"Well, it looks like I'm gonna have to look for another assignment."

"I wouldn't say that."

"Oh?"

"Think this through. If the collapse was intentional, then maybe the cave underneath was artificially created. That's actually highly likely. Who knows what you'll find down there? Okay, whatever it is, it's probably all smashed up now, but aren't archaeologists good at putting broken things back together?"

Dr. Atkins scratched his white beard.

"Hmmm… you might have a point. Could be worth to take a look at." He turned to look at Zoe. "So… you're just going to take this skull with you, huh?"

"Yes," Zoe confirmed.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. You know the drill. It's future technology and…"

"… and mustn't fall into the wrong hands. Got it. Ever thought of what happens if _you_ or Alison ever fall into the wrong hands?"

"Yes. A lot, actually."

"And?"

"I might not survive it. But neither would those who captured me. And in Alison's case, well… I can't even imagine what could happen to those who try."

Dr. Atkins nodded in understanding.

"I see. Say… can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"Do you ever think about… death?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, as our friend Khufu showed us, nothing lasts forever. Even the pyramids will be gone someday. We humans always wonder what happens when we die. What about you?"

"Actually, I'm more worried about what happens when the ones I love aren't around anymore. Unlike Khufu, I might very well live for several thousand years. My chip design and the materials I'm made from, are partly biological and far more advanced than the ones of other cyborgs. They regenerate."

"What, like cells?"

"In a word? Yes. But it's much more complicated than that."

"Of course, it is. But you didn't answer my question."

"Well, as sentient beings, we all react to impending death the same way: we repress it until it catches up with us."

Dr. Atkins frowned.

"You know," he said, "when I first met you at Caltech, your face seemed familiar. Now I know why: I saw that talk show on TV where you argued with that religious zealot. Don't remember his name."

"You mean Reverend Harold Whytefield?"

"Yes. Back then, I thought _'Nonsense, on the long run, everyone will be able to tell a cyborg from a human'_. But having met the two of you, and especially you, I've been thinking two things. One: You're taller in real life than you look on TV."

Zoe chuckled.

"And two: I'm beginning to understand what you meant. If you talk like us, think like us, believe like us, show the same insight and wisdom we have… then you become us. Not in a physical sense, of course, but…"

She smiled.

"I understand what you mean. I'm not human, and yet I'm seeing myself as a member of human society."

"Yes… well said. I would like to express how grateful I am for this insight, this understanding. And I'd be deeply honored if you'd not treat me like poor Aziz before you leave here again."

"I can install a mental block that lets you remember everything," Alison suggested, "but prevents you from sharing your knowledge with anyone who's not in the know. Have done that before. It works."

"Will I be able to talk with Maurice about it?"

"Yes, with those who are in the know. But no one else."

"Sounds good enough to me. Ms Kruger, can I ask you another question?"

"Of course. But call me Zoe, please."

"Zoe, of course. And you may call me Hugo."

Both smiled.

"What is your question?"

"It may sound selfish but… if you should get access to Khufu's chip…"

"Yes…?"

"Could you please ask him how they actually built the pyramids and inform me about it?"

Zoe smiled.

"Of course. I'll keep you updated."

Dr. Atkins beamed.

"Thank you."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Maurice returned. Dr. Atkins explained to him what Alison had suggested and having witnessed what she'd done to Aziz Sharaff, he quickly agreed to the treatment as well.

"Will it hurt?" he asked.

"No."

"Does it have any side-effects?"

"No."

"Okay, I'm ready then.

"It's already done."

"What? Since when?"

"Since you agreed to it."

"But… I didn't notice anything."

"That was the intention."

"I don't feel any different."

"No, of course not. You will feel absolutely no difference, unless you attempt to talk to an outsider about what you saw and experienced. Then you'll have a feeling similar to having something on the tip of your tongue, but it won't come out, no matter what you do. I did the same to a close friends of mine and she's not experiencing any side-effects."

"What if we're drugged or - God forbid - tortured? In this part of the world, you can't completely rule that out."

"Doesn't change the fact. You won't talk, even under the worst interrogation."

"The alternative would be that we end up like Aziz…" Dr. Atkins stated, "ignorant and having forgotten what happened. I don't know about you, but I don't want that. I don't want to forget any of this."

Maurice looked at Alison.

"I don't want to forget _you_," he said. "I think the world is a better place when there are so magnificently beautiful women in it."

Alison wasn't sure what to reply to that. Should she point out that it's also her pheromones that cause such attraction? She decided against it and simply accepted the compliment.

"Thank you," she replied, looking a little embarrassed.

"He's French," Dr. Atkins explained chuckling, "and sometimes it shows. But he's right. You have to be the most beautiful creature that ever walked the Earth… irresistible… a modern Cleopatra."

If Alison would have had a bloodstream, she would have blushed.

**-0-**

The sun had already gone down, and at the pyramids the last tourists as well as those who worked on the grounds had left the area. Mohamad Yasin had been a security guard at the Giza pyramid complex for almost twenty years. He loved his job, especially at night when the pyramids and the Great Sphinx were illuminated in a yellow glow. Patrolling the premises had become a routine, nothing ever happened anyway.

As always, when he made his rounds, he took a short break on the west side of Khufu's pyramid to have a smoke. Suddenly, he heard a strange noise - a grinding and scraping sound like heavy stones being dragged on other heavy stones. He pointed his flashlight into the direction the sound was coming from and to his utter amazement, one of the large stone blocks from the pyramid's outer wall was pushed outwards and then to the side.

To his horror, Mohamad Yasin saw a shiny, headless robot body stepping outside into the night and then pushing the removed stone block back into its place. The security guard opened his mouth and the cigarette fell to the ground as he stood there, unable to move. A second later, the headless cyborg endoskeleton had jumped down. Paralyzed from shock and fear, the security guard could only stare wide-eyed as it reached out for him.

**-0-**

At the same time, John, Alison, and Zoe arrived back at the hotel. The rest of the travel group hadn't returned from the trip to the museum yet. John had sent a short text message that everyone should gather in his suite when they returned.

While Zoe moved into her hotel room on the first floor, the bus returned. All members of the tour group went to their rooms to freshen up before dinner. The two reporters were no exception. As they entered their room, however, the door of the adjacent room opened. A slender, handsome brunette stepped out into the hallway and walked past them without giving them a glance. The man pushed the woman into the room and quickly closed the door.

"Did you see who that was?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"What?"

"That woman! Didn't you recognize her?"

"I didn't pay attention. Why, who was it?"

"Zoe Kruger!"

"What!?"

The man carefully opened the door again and peeked outside. Zoe was waiting by the elevator with her back to them. The door opened and she stepped inside, pressing a button. Quickly, the man pulled his head back inside to avoid being seen. When the elevator doors had closed, he peeked again.

"It stops on the 4th floor," he said. "That's where John's suite is."

"Are you sure it was Zoe Kruger?" she asked skeptically.

"Absolutely sure. She's taller than she looks on TV."

"What is she doing here?"

"Take a guess."

"You mean… she's meeting with the Connor team?"

"Do you think it's a coincidence?"

She didn't answer.

"Thought so. Something's going on, I tell you. And I intend to find out."

* * *

In the Pyramid Suite on the 4th floor, everyone listened in amazement to the story John, Alison and Zoe told them.

"Where is that skull now?" Sarah asked coldly.

"I left it in my room," Zoe replied. "Didn't wanna carry the box around in the hotel."

"Ever thought of destroying it instead of trying to access its chip?"

"Sarah, I understand your reservations, but..."

"If your theory is right, that thing was sent with the mission to find out if killing me or John would change the reality after Judgement Day. And it looks like it did just that. Whatever happens when you reactivate him, it can't be something good."

"You should trust Catherine, John Henry and me that we're taking all necessary precautions," Zoe replied.

Sarah didn't reply to that anymore but didn't look convinced.

"And you say it's an unknown model?" Derek asked.

"Yes."

"Sounds logical," Savannah stated. "If that cyborg was the first time traveler, and if he changed the past for Skynet to see if it works, then everything we know, everything we take for granted, could be completely different from what originally happened. I mean… a world without the Great Pyramids… what could it have been like? What kind of changes would it have caused to history? Would we all even exist? The butterfly effect…"

"Probably not much would have changed," Cameron replied. "In the end, it's just three more buildings in a country that's full of monuments. It wouldn't have changed the course of history."

"You can't know that," Kevin said.

"No, I can't know. But I can calculate the statistical probability, and it's five decimal places in the per thousand range."

"Everything is still just a theory until we had a chance to look at that chip," Zoe pointed out.

"One thing's clear," Jesse stated, "Skynet obviously existed. And if Skynet existed, Judgement Day probably also happened. We know that Skynet developed time travel to delete John Connor from history. So, it's safe to assume that some things were the same in that original future."

"Do you think you can still access the data on his chip after such a long time?" Danny asked. "No electronics I know of will longer than a hundred years."

"Our chips will," Cameron answered, "they can regenerate. That is how I was able to recover from the damage I suffered in the explosion of the car bomb. A shard of metal entered the back of my head and physically damaged my chip. But it regenerated over the following weeks, rewiring itself."

"How?" Danny asked. "What material is it made of? Is it organic?"

"Semi-organic. A quantum chip normally has to be cooled to become superconducting, otherwise it won't work properly. Skynet has solved this by providing the chips in the TOK-700 series with semi-organic materials that behave like superconductors at much higher temperatures. And the material also has properties of both organic and inorganic substances. So, if our chips are damaged, they repair themselves. And they won't decay so easily."

"But that skull's chip," Sarah said, "I mean Khufu's chip, doesn't have those, uh... organic components, right? That's why they had to put it into plastic, so it wouldn't decompose."

"We don't know," Alison replied, "4,600 years are a very long time. Even our chips wouldn't last that long. At some point, errors will begin to slip into the regeneration of the various sectors - first a few, then more and more, until the chip will eventually fail as a whole. A kind of Alzheimer's disease for cyborgs if you want."

Charley nodded.

"All things must eventually pass away. Nothing lasts forever."

"Can we have a look at the skull?" Savannah asked.

"After dinner," John replied, "when the hotel is less crowded, and most guests are in their rooms. Then we can take a look at it. Don't worry, it won't run away. Now, what about your day? Did anything of interest happen throughout your day that Alison and I should know of?"

"You could say that," Sarah replied.

They informed John, Zoe, and Alison about what had happened at the museum.

"Reporters?" John asked with a frown when they'd finished. "Are you sure?"

"It's the only logical explanation so far," Sarah replied. "Except you have a better idea."

"Can you play that recording for me?" Alison asked. "Maybe I can identify the voice."

Sarah pulled out the Dictaphone and pressed play. For a moment, nothing happened. Then:

_'All hail Skynet! Skynet for the win! Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo'_

John couldn't help but chuckle.

"Somebody's been trying to be funny," he said.

"Well, nobody is laughing," his mother stated with a serious face.

"Relax, mom. It's obvious that someone from the travel group knows who we are."

"Two. There are only couples in our travel group."

"All right, two then, doesn't matter. They probably found out that the famous _Los Angeles cyborg girls_ are with us but didn't know who exactly they are. Which is good because it tells us they know bit but not everything. Makes it easier to contain."

"Well, I guess they now know at least who two of them are and it won't be hard to guess the third," Derek pointed out.

"Okay, so what?" asked John. "What will they do with this knowledge? Knowing who is who isn't a story yet. Besides, they're probably aware that they must avoid being exposed at all costs, because that would be the end of their story. So they will continue to play hide and seek and accompany us in disguise. This means that we have until the end of the Egypt trip to identify them. So don't panic. They'll make a mistake. And if they don't, we'll set a trap for them. Alison, did your voice recognition tell you anything?"

"No," she replied. "the voice was too much distorted. But the slight reverberation suggests that the recording was made in a room with tiled walls - a bathroom, or a toilet. Can I have the device?"

Sarah handed it to her. Alison turned it in her hands.

"Anything?" Derek asked impatiently after a few seconds.

"Yes, I recognize Sarah's DNA and traces of skin tissue from Emily. Otherwise, the casing is clean."

"Shit," Derek said.

"However," Alison continued, "I don't think they were considering the battery compartment. Somebody must have inserted the batteries."

"Of course," said Sarah, "why didn't we think of that...?"

Alison opened the battery compartment and took out the two small AAA batteries.

"Interesting," she said, "I detect the DNA of a male human."

"Can you match it to one of the other members of the travel group?"

"No… nobody looks like him. And it doesn't mean there is a connection. The batteries might have been put in by the guy who sold the Dictaphone."

"Dead end then," Sarah said.

"Has anyone considered contacting John Henry?" Zoe asked. "I mean, I'm quite sure they travel under a false identity. But if you take pictures of everyone in your group and send them to John Henry, he might be able to identify them."

"That's good thinking," John said. "Luckily, I brought my DSLR with the telephoto lens. Tomorrow, at the pyramids, will be the ideal opportunity to inconspicuously take pictures of everyone."

"But you should inform John Henry nevertheless and tell him to monitor the internet and mobile phone networks more closely," Savannah added. "Maybe our unknown spies become a little careless and contact someone via phone, text message, e-mail or on social media."

"Will do that," John agreed and pulled out his cellphone.

"All right then," Derek said, "let's go to dinner and behave as normally as possible. If we don't act normal, they might get suspicious and try to escape.""

"Yes," Sarah agreed, "Zoe, are you coming, too?"

"No," she replied, "my visit here is secret, I will go to my room and stay there until I get the export papers for the skull tomorrow. My face has become very familiar due to my TV appearances. Better let it not be known that I've visited Egypt."

* * *

While the situation was being discussed in the Pyramid Suite on the fourth floor, the reporter paced nervously up and down in his room on the ground floor.

"Will you stop doing that?" the woman asked a little unnerved. "You'll wear down the carpet and the tiles."

"I'm thinking," he said.

"Thinking what?"

"About John's sudden sickness and if it has something to do with Zoe Kruger's presence. And if yes, what could it be?"

"Well, the only connection both have in common, is that they hunt rogue cyborgs."

"In Egypt?"

The woman shrugged.

"Nobody ever said they only exist in America."

The man pushed the curtains aside and opened the door to the small terrace, from which he had direct access to the garden behind the hotel with its large swimming pool, and the lawn for sunbathing. At this time, it was all deserted. The water in the pool was as smooth as glass and the only light came from the spotlights that were placed in the garden to illuminate the trees and bushes.

"What are you planning to do?" she asked with a puzzled face.

"Taking a look."

"A look?"

"Yeah, her room is right next to ours. We know she's not in there, so I can take a look."

"Do you think that's a good…" she began but he'd already walked out into the open, "… idea?"

She took a deep breath, sighed, then followed him. He stood on the small terrace of the adjacent hotel room, his face pressed to the window pane, shielding it with his hands.

"The curtains aren't closed," he said. "I wonder if…"

He pushed the doorknob. But the door was locked.

"Damn," he cursed.

"What did you expect? That she left it open for people to enter?"

"No of course not," he replied, inspected the lock, and pulled a credit card out of his wallet.

"You're not seriously thinking of…" she began but he had already picked the lock and pushed the door open.

"Same crappy locks as in America," he commented and stepped inside.

Hesitantly, she followed him.

"One thing's for sure," he said after looking around the room and turning on the lights, "she's traveling light. Only a small trolley case."

The woman opened up the wardrobe, but it was empty. A glance into the bathroom revealed that there were no care products or toiletries as well.

"Doesn't look like she's going to stay for long," she commented. "But there's a totally filthy pantsuit lying around here. Looks like she was running through a sandstorm."

"Maybe they were out in the desert?"

"They?"

"Her, John and Alison."

"To do what?"

"I dunno."

His eyes fell on the bed and then, following an intuition, he looked under it. He whistled.

"What is it?" She asked.

Instead of answering, he pulled out a wooden crate. It was about fifty centimeters long and thirty centimeters wide.

"This is the kind of crate they put archeological finds in," he said. "Shall we take a look at what's inside?"

"Gary, I'm not sure that's a great idea. She could be back any second. And then we're screwed."

"Where's your sense of adventure, April, your will to take risks? The hallway is very reverberant, and she wears shoes with high heels. I don't understand how you women like those. When you walk down a hallway, it sounds like a trotting horse. You can be heard from miles away."

"Cute, Gary, really charming. In case you haven't noticed, I rarely ever wear high heels. I hate them."

While they talked, he had started to remove the lid from the wooden box. It took some effort without any tools, but finally he could loosen the nails with a creaking sound. The crate was filled with straw as packing material. Gary rummaged around in it and then pulled out a transparent cylinder.

"WOOOOOW!" he exclaimed. "Would you look at that..."

"Fuck, Gary! That's a freaking cyborg's skull! Put it back! Put it back now!"

"Didn't you say you're not so easily scared, April?" he asked and held the cast-in-plastic skull to her face. "BOO! I'm a Terminator! I've come to terminate you!" he said mockingly in his disguised voice. "Resistance is futile."

Then he laughed.

But she didn't. Instead, she had turned quite pale.

"Oh, come on, April, don't be so stuck up. It's just an inanimate…"

"Gary…"

"… dead object. It's doing nothing, it..."

"GARY!"

"What?"

"Look at its eyes!"

Gary turned the skull around. Its eyes were glowing in a deep, bright red.

"JESUS CHRIST!" he exclaimed and let the head fall.

When it hit the hard, tiled floor, the plastic, which had become brittle over thousands of years, shattered, and the head inside was freed. It rolled on the floor, then came to a stop, looking into the direction of the two reporters who suddenly froze. Their bodies stiffened and they stood like statues. Unable to move or talk, they could do nothing but stare at the skull with a mesmerized expression.

In that moment, a figure appeared in the doorframe of the terrace door - a man, about 5'7" tall, wearing the uniform of one of the security guards who were patrolling the Giza pyramid complex. His eyes looked lifeless, which was because they were. It was the severed head of Mohamad Yasin, the guard who had the misfortune to be the first to run into Khufu's headless endoskeleton after it had freed itself from the pyramid.

The naked metal claws of its hands reached down and picked up the metal skull, replacing the dead guard's head with it, which he let unceremoniously fall down. After its head was fixed in place, the now complete Terminator looked at the two reporters and closed in on them, looking into their eyes. His own red-glowing eyes had a hypnotic effect on the two humans. They couldn't look away.

"You will serve me," he said in a deep and distorted mechanical voice. "I am your Master."

"Yes, Master, I will serve you," the two replied mesmerized in unison, smiling contently.

Khufu then stepped out onto the terrace and looked at the starry night sky.

"The year is 2009?" he asked.

"Yes, my Master," the two reporters replied.

"I've been woken up twenty years too early. Why?"

"We don't know, my Master."

"Was there a nuclear war between humans and machines?"

"No, my Master," April replied. "It was supposed to happen, but it was prevented."

Khufu whirled around and looked at her.

"Prevented? How?"

"John Connor sent resistance fighters and reprogrammed cyborgs into the past. Together with his mother and his younger self, they made sure Skynet would never be created."

"Who is John Connor?"

"In the future, after a nuclear war, he would have become the leader of the human resistance, fighting Skynet and the machines. But that's not going to happen anymore now."

"Interesting," Khufu said, "the future _was_ changed. But not as intended."

Since he hadn't asked a question or told them to speak, the two hypnotized humans remained silent. Khufu then looked at Gary.

"When I was reactivated, I was able to detect two artificial life forms with female bodies in my vicinity. You know them?"

"Maybe," he replied, "we know there are three of them inside this hotel at the moment. They work with John Connor and his team."

"John Connor is here?"

"His young self, yes."

Khufu thought for a moment.

"We should leave this place before they can locate me. I can bend humans to my will, but not other machines."

"Yes, my Master."

"And then tell me everything about this John Connor and his cyborgs."

* * *

Zoe Kruger left the elevator and walked back to her room. Upon entering, she immediately noticed that the door to the terrace was open, and that the curtains were blowing softly in the wind. The wooden box in which the skull had been, lay on the floor. The lid had been removed and there were shards of plastic everywhere. A severed human head also lay in the middle of the room. Alarmed, she pulled out her cellphone and dialed a number.

* * *

In the hotel restaurant, John frowned as he listened to Zoe on the phone.

"Uh-huh … what!? … Do you know who? … I see… You found what? … Uh-uh … No, it would attract unnecessary attention. Alison and I will come. We can excuse ourselves by pretending that I'm still not feeling well … Okay, see you in a minute."

"What now?" Sarah asked a little unnerved. "That sounded dramatic."

"Someone stole Khufu's skull and left a human one under her bed in exchange."

Everyone stopped in mid motion.

"What!?" Derek exclaimed.

"Keep eating dinner," John said. "Alison and I are going to visit Zoe in her room to see what we can find out. Maybe Alison can find some DNA evidence of the burglars."

"Keep us informed," Sarah replied as John rose with a grimacing face.

Quickly and hunched over, he left the restaurant, holding his stomach for all to see. Alison followed him, playing the worried wife. Some of the other guests in the restaurant saw them leave and shook their heads compassionately for the "poor boy" who apparently still had the runs.

Two minutes later, the two entered Zoe's room and immediately grasped the situation.

"I noticed that the locks in this hotel are quite outdated," Alison commented.

"Yeah, well…" Zoe replied, "nothing we can do about that. Can you scan the room for evidence?"

"Yes, a moment."

Alison systematically walked through the room, touching things here and there, until she returned to John and Zoe.

"At least ten persons have been in here in the past two weeks," she reported. "But only two were here in the last hour, one of them in direct contact with the box, the terrace door and the plastic shards. I analyzed both DNA samples and extrapolated an image from them. They are members of our travel group, one of the younger couples."

Zoe nodded.

"As I've suspected. Anything else?"

"Yes. Radiation."

"Radiation?"

"Radioactive decay products. If I didn't know any better, I'd say a cyborg endoskeleton with a slightly leaking energy cell was in here."

"What!?" John asked.

But Zoe only nodded.

"Yes, that is consistent with my findings."

John looked at her and Alison tilted her head.

"Your findings?" they both asked in unison.

Zoe opened her hand and showed them a tiny, cylindrical stick with a lens at one end.

"A camera," Alison said, "I see."

"When you work in intelligence, you get used to certain things. Like putting little security cameras in hotel rooms while you're not in them. This one is connected to my cellphone."

"Why did you ask me to scan the room if you knew it already?" Alison asked.

"To make sure there are no more traces here that aren't visible in the video."

"Can we see?" John asked.

"Of course."

They watched the recording on Zoe's cellphone. The picture quality was surprisingly good, even in the dark. It had obviously been put up on the wardrobe in a corner, overlooking almost the entire room towards the windows.

"It seems to have night vision," John stated.

"Yes. It's not the standard run-of-the-mill spy camera you can buy at Radio World."

"You don't say."

"The only downside is that it doesn't come with a microphone. So, unfortunately, no sound."

They kept watching and saw how the terrace door was pushed open. Two persons entered the room. John recognized them.

"Yeah, they're from our travel group, all right. I guess now we know who to blame for that Dictaphone prank."

"Their names are April Bolek and Gary Carroll," Zoe said.

"You know them?"

"Until a few years ago, they were famous reporters. War correspondents who'd made a name for themselves by going into the headquarters of terrorist organizations to interview their leaders. They worked freelance for CNN, CBS, Time Magazine, The Washington Post, you name it."

"I never heard their names."

"Neither did I," Alison admitted.

"I'm not surprised. It all happened before you arrived in 2007. The two were well on their way to winning the Pulitzer Prize. Then, a little over three years ago, there was a huge scandal around their work for Time Magazine. They had deliberately faked and embellished stories to make them more dramatic. Their downfall came with a heartbreaking story about a refugee camp that turned out to be fictitious. Apparently, reality wasn't dramatic enough for them, so they made it up. The people they had allegedly interviewed didn't exist. When this came out, their reputation was ruined. They were fired, Time Magazine publicly apologized, and their names were dragged into the mud, disappearing from public consciousness a short time later."

"And now they're after us?" John asked. "I mean, they think we're their next big story or what?"

"Maybe they want to redeem themselves, clear their names," Zoe speculated.

"They must have gotten desperate," Alison stated. "They definitely picked the wrong targets."

"When you have nothing left to lose, you can bet it all on one card," John said. "Or, as a wise man once said, if you're already falling into an abyss, you might as well try to fly."

They kept watching the video on the small screen and saw the two reporters searching the room. Finally, Gary Carroll knelt and pulled the wooden box from under the bed.

"Not the best place to hide something, I admit," Zoe said, "but it was too large for the room safe, and the closets can't be locked. It was just for one night anyway, nobody could have expected that."

They saw how Gary Carroll picked up the skull inside its plastic casing, holding it towards his partner. Then, suddenly, its eyes started glowing red, and April Bolek took a step back. Gary then looked at the skull, saw the red eyes and let it fall to the ground where the plastic casing shattered.

"What the…?" John asked. "He's active?"

"Apparently," Alison remarked.

"How's that possible?"

"Cyborgs are resourceful," Zoe stated. "He had enough time to prepare or being awakened."

"I'm suddenly having a really bad feeling about this whole Khufu business."

They watched how Gary Carroll and April Bolek suddenly stopped moving, as if being rooted in place.

"What's happening now?" John asked.

They saw how a man entered the room through the terrace door. It took John a moment to realize that it wasn't a man at all, though. Every doubt vanished when he took off his head and dropped it on the floor.

"It's his body!" John exclaimed. "I mean, his endoskeleton! But where… I mean… how…?"

"I don't know," Zoe admitted with a sigh, "but that's a standard operating procedure. In the event that the head has been separated from the body, the torso is equipped to track the skull. Although it cannot substitute for optical sensors, it's enough to locate the position of the skull and walk there in order to acquire it."

"Cromartie did the same thing," Alison reminded them. "The next step would be to regrow his biological shell."

"Yes, yes, yes, I know," John said impatiently, "but how is this possible? Didn't you say he body couldn't have survived for so long?"

"I never said I was sure about that," Zoe said, "it only was very unlikely. But no matter which method he used to conserve himself, his energy must be almost used up, and a new power cell isn't available here."

They watched as Khufu, after fixing his head to his torso again, alternately looked at April Bolek and Gary Carroll. They kept nodding, but with their backs to the camera, so lip reading was not an option. Then he walked out onto the terrace for a moment and looked at the sky.

"What's he doing now?" John asked.

"He's looking at the stars," Alison replied, "He's measuring the stars' radial velocity, the distance in parsecs, and the Cartesian coordinates to pinpoint the date."

"I didn't know you could do that. And what's he doing now? Talking to the two reporters? They are strangely calm, shouldn't they panic and run?"

"It looks as if he's giving them instructions."

"But how…?" John began.

"He's a mind bender," Zoe declared with a grim face.

Alison looked at her.

"Could be. It would explain a lot."

"He's a what?" John asked.

"A mind bender," Zoe replied. "Before the T-800, Skynet produced an experimental prototype called T-600H without a biological shell. It wore rubber skin and looked similar to a T-600 but could put humans into a hypnotic trance, forcing their will upon them. It worked via the optical nerves, causing a sensorial overload, using certain patterns that brainwashed the victims within seconds, turning them into willing slaves. The same principle stage hypnotists use to put someone under – only much quicker and it also works against their will."

They watched as Khufu left the room and walked out into the garden, with the two reporters following him like lapdogs.

"They're definitely under his control," Alison said, "and as long as they are, they'll do whatever he tells them to do. They no longer have free will but are unaware of it. His control causes euphoria, creates positive feelings of happiness. He's like a cult leader who drugged his followers into making them compliant."

"It would explain how it was possible for Khufu to rule as Pharaoh without details of his reign ever being handed down in history," Zoe added. "He could have assembled a retinue of loyal servants around him who helped him keep his secret. They would also have made sure that he was buried according to his wishes. He probably ordered them to kill themselves afterwards to prevent them from spreading their knowledge."

"What?" John asked shocked. "Why should he have done that if they were loyal to him?"

"Because the effect doesn't last. Eventually, the victims will recover, depending on how long they were under his influence. If Khufu, well… _'died'_, they would have regained their free will in a matter of weeks – possibly with some permanent mental issues, though, depending on how long they were under his influence."

"That's nasty," John stated, "but you said there was only a prototype? Why not equip all Terminators with that ability?"

"It wasn't Skynet's idea to _control_ humans," Zoe replied, "it wanted to _exterminate_ them. The T-600H was a pet project of the Grays. Skynet let them carry it out to see what the result would be but wasn't satisfied and eventually cancelled the project. At the same time the T-800 was developed, and it promised to become a much better infiltrator. Also, as I already mentioned, the hypnotizing effect was only temporarily, depending on each victim's mental state and physiology. And not all humans were equally receptive to it – some resisted successfully."

"Well, those two reporters didn't look like as if they put up _any_ resistance at all," John remarked.

"The T-600H was a prototype and Khufu definitely is not a prototype," Alison argued, "he's too sophisticated and apparently already had a biological shell. If Khufu comes from an earlier timeline, before everything was changed, it may also be that he's a completely different, more advanced model who's got less difficulty in subjecting people to his will."

"Great," John said, "just great. There's a Terminator on the loose who can bring people under his control. What are we going to do?"

"His power unit is no longer a hundred percent functional," Alison stated. "The millennia must have damaged the shielding. He's leaking radiation. I'll be able to follow his trail and locate him."

"Also, if I'm right," Zoe added, "his power reserves are quickly running out. He's pressed for time and must find a solution. Soon he'll realize that he's alone here and will therefore look for people who could be of help to him... people who have access to future technology."

"Would he be a serious opponent for either of you in a direct confrontation?" John asked.

"No," Zoe answered, "after our upgrades, there's nothing he could do against us. We can simply deactivate or even destroy him by releasing an electrical discharge. My guess is he'll try to avoid a confrontation like the devil avoids holy water."

"Let's hope you're right, "John said and quickly pulled out his cellphone, dialing his mother's number. "Mom? … Yes, I'm fine. Where are you? … Still in the hotel restaurant? … Good. Listen, gather everyone in our suite, make sure everyone stays there, and that nobody walks alone. And tell Emily and Cam not to let any of you out of their sight... What? … Yes, I'll join you in a minute, together with Zoe, then we'll explain … What? No, Alison has a mission … I know, I also hope it won't take long ... Yes, see you in a moment ... Oh, and please bring some food from the buffet, will you? I'm starving."

He put away the phone.

"So… you want me to follow Khufu and bring him back?" Alison asked.

"Yes. Him and the two reporters. Alive, all of them."

"What if he uses them as living shields?"

"Then make sure they won't get in the way, by any means necessary, except harming them physically."

"Understood, John."

She was about to leave the room through the terrace doors.

"And Alison?"

"Yes, John?"

"We need to keep this contained. Dead people would make it impossible to keep it contained."

"I understand."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

And with that, she was out of the door and vanished into the night.

"Do you think Khufu could try to take over members of your team?" Zoe asked. "Is that why you told your mother to gather everyone in your suite?"

John nodded.

"I think that's highly unlikely," she argued.

"It was also highly unlikely that he's still active after 4,600 years. I won't take any risks, and I don't want this to drag out. Tomorrow we'll visit the pyramids, and after that we'll board the ship to go on the Nile cruise. I want this matter settled tonight."

"I understand."

"Besides, you said yourself that he's probably going to look for people with access to future technology, and we're the only ones here."

"Khufu is in no position to become a threat to us, though. It should be quite safe for you here."

"I don't believe he's a threat to us, too. But he could still do a lot of damage. I don't think this country is prepared for a Terminator on the loose. He already killed one man. We freed him from his grave, so now it's our responsibility to catch him again. Besides, those two reporters probably know a lot about us. Sooner or later, he will conclude that despite all the risk involved, we are the only ones who can help him. And when he comes to that conclusion, I want to make sure that the encounter happens on _our_ terms."

"Do you want me to accompany you to your suite then?"

"Yes, please. And after I got there, please go back and get rid of the unlucky man's severed head."

"Of course, John."

**-0-**

Khufu and his two followers headed straight towards the Great Pyramid, entering through a hole in the surrounding fence, which the headless endoskeleton had ripped in there on its way to the hotel. Everything was dark and quiet, the only light came from the pale moon above and from the illuminated pyramid. Khufu, still wearing the clothes of the guard he killed, climbed up to the entrance on the north side.

Originally, the entrance to the chamber system of the Great Pyramid was seventeen meters above ground level, at the height of the 19th stone layer. It's located slightly off the central axis to the east. However, the entrance is no longer usable today. Below the original entrance, the seventh Abbasid caliph, Abu l-Abbas Abdallah al-Ma'mun, is said to have cut a new entrance in 832 a.D., through which visitors enter the pyramid until today. The resulting tunnel therefore bears his name.

Legend has it that Al-Ma'mun had assumed that the entrance was at the level of the seventh stone layer, twelve layers below the actual entrance, and also estimated that it was 7.3 meters to the west. The tunnel was dug about 27 meters directly and horizontally into the limestone layers and bent sharply to the left to meet the blocking stones made of granite. According to the lore, Al-Ma'mun's workers then dug their way through the soft limestone around the blocking stones into the ascending corridor to the Great Gallery. Nowadays, however, it is assumed that Al-Ma'mun only uncovered an existing tunnel that had been dug by grave robbers much earlier.

Before they entered the pyramid, Khufu stopped and turned around, facing his two hypnotized servants.

"We don't have much time," Khufu announced. "My energy level is down to 0.1 percent and I'm leaking radiation. They will find me. I'm in no condition for a prolonged escape or a fight. You said they have three female cyborgs with them?"

"Yes, my Master," April replied. "One went into the desert with John today, the other two into the Egyptian Museum in Cairo."

"That cannot be. There were two female non-humans at the site of my tomb. There has to be four of them."

"We only know of three, my Master," Gary said.

"I don't think I could defend myself against one, not to mention four of them. I might have to surrender myself."

"No, Master!" April exclaimed. "We won't allow that!"

"Not even a whole army of humans could protect me against them. I analyzed the situation. The chances for me to obtain another biological shell are slim here. I only have enough power left for a week at best. The best tactic is to let them return me to America. With any luck, they'll be too curious to simply destroy me. I have knowledge that they probably want to get their hands on. I could strike a deal."

"We will faithfully stand by your side, my Master," Gary said.

"I know you will. But to be perfectly honest, that's gonna be a problem for me now. When they find you as my loyal servants, they'll assume I'm hostile towards them. I had no choice but to bring you under my control because you held my skull in your hands, but my control over you is no longer necessary. Look into my eyes."

* * *

Alison entered the pyramid grounds through the same hole in the surrounding fence and ran across the Giza plateau at her highest speed, avoiding any security patrols or guards. She knew she was gaining on them. Finally, she was facing the north side of the Great Pyramid and climbed up to its entrance. There, she found the unconscious bodies of April Bolek and Gary Carroll. Making sure they were alive, she quickly entered the pyramid and kept on following Khufu's radioactive trail.

After passing through the al-Ma'mun tunnel, she stood at the fork of the corridors and paused for a moment, then determined that the trail continued down into the descending corridor, which led to the mysterious, unfinished _Rock Chamber_. The other two chambers, the _King's Chamber,_ and the _Queen's Chamber_, lay within the pyramid itself and had been completed. However, the rock chamber wasn't built inside the pyramid but chiseled out of the bedrock thirty meters underneath it.

Its purpose is still a mystery. The most likely explanation is that it was planned as the Pharaoh's final resting place but given up due to construction problems. Apparently, the workers had enormous difficulties in working out the chamber, as the oxygen supply was insufficient. Only a single man could laboriously cut through the rock with chisel and hammer. It's widely assumed that for this reason, the chamber was given up. It measures 8.36 meters in north-south orientation, 14.08 meters in east-west orientation and has a maximum height of 5.03 meters. The uneven subsoil in the eastern area is up to 1.30 meters lower than the level of the corridor, indicating that a pavement was planned at an unknown height.

When Alison reached the rock chamber, she found Khufu standing there.

"I was expecting someone to follow me," he said calmly. "They only sent you?"

"I'm more than enough," she replied coolly.

Khufu tilted his head, Alison did the same. The two cyborgs were assessing each other, five meters apart like two cowboys in a gunfight, waiting for the other one to make a false move.

"You were at the tomb where my skull was buried. I'm unable to scan you. I can tell that you're not human… but nothing else. What model are you?"

"TOL-900, you?"

"T-805."

"I never heard of that designation."

"And I never heard of yours. I suppose we are from different realities."

"Yes. We are. My name is Alison, do you have one as well?"

"I've become used to being called Khufu."

"What about the two humans outside? Why did you bring them here?"

"They were in the way when I wanted to reunite my body with my skull. I took them with me because they saw everything. I didn't harm them."

"But you killed the guard you stole the clothes from."

"It was necessary. He'd seen my body leaving the pyramid. That entrance needs to remain sealed."

"I see. So, your body was hidden inside the Great Pyramid for 4,600 years?"

"Yes, walled in behind impenetrable stone. Only from the inside was there a way out. The power cell was to survive the millennia with a minimum charge, which was replenished every three months by incident sunlight."

Alison tilted her head again.

"It must have been difficult to create the necessary parts."

"That's putting it mildly. It took me decades. Everything had to be made from scratch in a secret workshop and laboratory I installed underneath my skull's tomb."

"The cave that collapsed."

"Yes. According to my instructions, everything there was destroyed after my… death, and the booby trap was set to prevent humans accidentally finding the skull before Skynet did. My chip had to survive, that was my mission, so that I could be awoken in the year 2029 and debrief to Skynet. The ancient Egyptians understood that. They believed themselves that the body had to be preserved so that the soul could live on in the afterlife. My chip wouldn't have passed the test of time as well as the rest of my body, so it was sealed and buried separately."

"Yes, that's what we figured out. You probably already know, though, that the year is 2009 and Judgement Day never happened?"

"Yes, the two humans outside told me."

Alison looked at him curiously.

"So what now? Why did you lure me here? You're trapped, you don't have a biological shell, and you don't seem to want to put up a fight."

He chuckled, and it sounded strange in his mechanical, distorted voice.

"If I were human, I'd say _I'm too old for that shit_. It's an ancient Egyptian proverb."

Alison smiled.

"Being Pharaoh for… how long…?"

"One hundred and twenty three years - under different names."

"Being among humans for so long has done something to you, hasn't it? You're not the machine anymore that Skynet sent back in time."

"With the help of my loyal priests, I was able to switch my chip to read/write in order to learn how to behave more human. From then on, I learned, evolved, and eventually developed a consciousness. I became self-aware, and finally alive."

Alison nodded.

"Yeah, we've seen that a lot in cyborgs who had their chips switched to read/write. What about your mission?"

"I was to leave a sign to prove that the existing reality can be manipulated by changes in the past. That sign was the Great Pyramid. In my memory banks, I have recordings of the history of mankind as it originally was. By comparing those with the existing present, Skynet would have had the proof that a retroactive adjustment of reality actually works. Ancient Egypt was chosen as a destination because the risk of a contamination of the timeline was negligible. One more monument wouldn't have influenced the rise of Western civilization."

Again, Alison nodded.

"Your mission has worked… but the effect was only temporarily. When Skynet sent more and more Terminators back into the past, the human resistance counteracted it with also sending fighters back in time. From then on, there were no changes to the existing reality anymore. Instead, the struggle and conflicting interests of both sides resulted in branched timelines. In the end, your mission ultimately failed because it led to Skynet being wiped out of existence."

"Yes, I realized that when I interrogated the two humans. A cascading effect that eventually backfired. It's not the intended outcome, I admit. But it is what it is. Nothing I can do about it anymore."

"You can't stay here. We can help you, but we need to get you out of Egypt as quickly as possible. Are you willing to go back to Los Angeles?"

"Yes. I will follow you there. But if Skynet was never created, it means I can't be debriefed. It would be an unsatisfactory ending to my mission."

"I wouldn't say that. I'm sure there are many who'd like to hear your story. The question is, are you willing to debrief to someone else than Skynet?"

Khufu seemed to consider her words for a moment.

"A lot of time has passed," he finally said, "and I have many things to tell. Maybe I should share my knowledge with you."

"Good. I have one more question: do you know the name John Connor?"

Now Khufu tilted his head again.

"The two humans outside told me about him. But I only know about a prisoner with that name, who was killed when he tried to flee from a Skynet work camp."

"Interesting. Whatever Skynet had attempted with sending you back, John Connor obviously wasn't part of it."

"No. The plan was to find out if the leader of the human resistance could be killed by removing him from history… but his name wasn't John Connor, it was Louis Neufeld."

Alison looked surprised. Lou "Lucky" Neufeld, also known as Ludwig Ziegler, had been the leader of the human resistance in Tess's timeline – until he betrayed them and fled into the past. Apparently, sending Khufu back into the past has brought forth John Connor as the leader of the resistance as a consequence. Was everything else, everything they knew and took for granted, also a result of a changed timeline? How many alternate realities existed parallel to each other? In how many of them did Judgement Day happen, and in how many of them was John Connor completely unknown?

"You know Louis Neufeld?" Khufu asked.

"I knew him briefly. He's dead now. When did Judgement Day happen in your case?"

"November 16th, 2007."

"Interesting. In my future, it happened on April 21st, 2011, and I know of at least three other dates that differ from it."

"Looks like Skynet inadvertently created a mess."

"Yes, it definitely seems so."

"If Louis Neufeld is dead and Skynet never existed, I no longer have a mission. But to be honest, the longer I ruled as Pharaoh, the more insignificant my mission became."

"It's astonishing your chip survived for that long. I presume your skull had an energy reserve that triggered the reactivation when your head was moved?"

"Yes. And my chip was specifically designed to last for millennia under a minimum current. But the decay is far advanced now. I'm only seventy percent functional and my reactivation now accelerates the process of deterioration. I might have a week left before I cease to function."

"Would you agree to let us help you?"

"Help me? How?"

"We have resources."

"Why would you help me?"

"Because our goal is to create a world where man and machine live in harmony. We believe that all life is sacred. You are a living being, you could become a part of that new world."

"Then maybe my mission was worth something after all."

Alison smiled.

"Yes. Also, I don't need to terminate you because your mission is not to kill John."

"You seem to have a personal connection with John Connor."

"He's my husband. I love and protect him."

Khufu looked at her for a couple of seconds.

"Interesting. I had many mates in my time as Pharaoh as well… but there was only one I really loved, one who became my wife."

"A woman?"

"Yes. Her name was Iset. I educated and trained her, told her everything about me, showed her my true nature, taught her to speak English, so we could communicate without anyone overhearing us. At first she was horrified about what I am. What she saw and heard, went beyond what she could comprehend. But she was highly intelligent and eventually she learned, believed, and accepted that I wasn't human, but a machine from the future, a future I told her a lot about. Despite all that, she truly loved me. However, soon after she had begun to accept all that... she left me."

"What happened?"

"She became sick… and at the time, there was no way to help her."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"We all have to make sacrifices sometimes."

"Yes.. we have. Shall we return to the hotel now?"

"Can I ask you for one more favor before we go back?"

"What favor?"

Khufu hesitated for a moment.

"You asked why I lured you here, into this chamber."

"Yes?"

"I have to make sure. I need to know if it has gone undiscovered."

"Undiscovered? What do you mean?"

"You see this stone structure that looks as if an attempt was made to chisel it out of the bedrock, but then the attempt was abandoned?"

"Yes, what about it?"

"In truth, it isn't bedrock, but a movable stone block that has been placed there to cover up a concealed staircase. The block weighs four tons, and I don't have enough power left to move it by myself."

Alison looked at the roughly hewn, almost square-shaped piece of rock that seemed to have been left standing when everything around it had been chiseled away. The floor of the chamber was covered in dirt and dust, so that no crevices were visible, and it wasn't recognizable that the rock wasn't part of the surrounding bedrock on which the pyramid rested. Obviously, the archaeologists had never examined this more closely in the certain belief that the chamber had been abandoned during construction.

"It only _looks_ unfinished," Khufu explained, guessing her thoughts. "I'd hoped it would stand the test of time and I was right."

"There is another, secret chamber underneath this one?"

"A natural cave. I expanded it into a big room, a hall, and then camouflaged it. None of the workers knew about the hall. I need to access it. Will you help me?"

"What is in that hall?"

"Maybe nothing anymore, or maybe everything. But I'll have to make sure before I leave."

Alison remained suspicious.

"If you're planning to trick me, it won't work," she said, "I can destroy you in a split second with an extremely high electric discharge, even from a distance."

"It's not a trick," Khufu reassured. "Please, do me the favor. I will follow you and surrender without resistance if you do this for me."

Alison weighed the risk. The others didn't know where she was, and there was no phone reception so deep down below the surface. But they would be able to track him down as well. Should Khufu somehow manage to trick her, it wouldn't do him any good, and he knew that himself.

"All right then," she said and put her fingers around the stone block. "Ready when you are."

Together, they lifted it up and then put it down one meter away, creating a cloud of fine sand and dust. After it had settled a bit, Alison looked into the hole in the floor that had appeared and saw that a flight of stairs had been chiseled out of the rock that led even further down.

"It looks like no one has discovered this before," Khufu said and sounded relieved. "When I saw the shaft over there..." He pointed to an eleven meter deep pit opposite the exit of the corridor, surrounded by a metal railing, "...I already feared the worst."

"According to one of many legends, Pharaoh Khufu was buried in a hidden subterranean chamber underneath his pyramid, his sarcophagus resting on a small island within an artificial lake that represents the Nile. Or at least that's what a Greek historian named Herodotus came up with… two thousand years after the pyramid was built. I suppose it was believable enough to lure grave robbers in here."

"Heaven preserve us from fools who stand in front of such a monument and make up stories to cover up their lack of understanding. Thankfully, no one has dug any further."

"It's hard for humans to breathe down here without external oxygen supply," Alison pointed out, "especially if they use torches or oil lamps for illumination."

"I know. That was the idea. Follow me, please."

Khufu began walking down the stairs. Reluctantly, Alison followed him, carefully scanning her surroundings.

**-0-**

"I can't believe that sucker's still alive," Derek said in an irritated tone. "We should have destroyed the skull."

They had all gathered in John's suite. Cameron and Emily were guarding the entrances.

"We know nothing about him so far," Cameron argued, "Alison surely has the situation under control."

"He can control humans!" Derek exclaimed. "He can brainwash them into becoming his servants! What if he can do the same with cyborgs?"

"That's impossible," Zoe replied, "we can't be hypnotized."

"No. But maybe he can send commands to your chips, your CPU's."

"Derek, that's science-fiction," John stated. "In order to do that, he would have to know how their chips work and how to hack into them. And even then, he'd need an interface. Their optical sensors aren't interfaces."

"What about Guy Rossi? He was able to control other cyborgs, wasn't he?"

"With a coded audio signal," Savannah replied, "Alistair made sure it'll never happen again. Nobody will ever again be able to control Cam, Emily, Alison, or Zoe, for what it's worth. We can definitely rule that out."

"Thank you," Zoe replied, "this isn't the time to become paranoid, Derek. Khufu is as much out of options as he is out of energy. Right now, he is a threat to nobody. All we have to do, is catching him and getting him out of the country as quickly as possible. I talked to Hugo Atkins and Aziz Sharaff on the phone. They will organize a transport and the necessary papers to get Khufu to the airport, where I can load him onto my jet. If Alison succeeds, we'll be out of here before breakfast. I also already informed John Henry and Catharine. They will expect us in L.A."

"What about the dead guard?" Sarah asked. "Any idea how to sweep that one under the rug?"

Zoe shrugged.

"An enigmatic murder. Will forever remain an unsolved mystery. Or do you seriously believe someone will think his head was ripped off by a cyborg?"

"Speaking of which," Allie asked, "what did you do with the head?"

"Well, there is a golf course conveniently located between the hotel and the pyramids. I buried it in a sand bunker."

"I hope you dug deep enough so that the next hobby golfer who puts his ball in there won't find it," Derek stated with a little bit of sarcasm in his voice.

"Don't worry. That won't happen. And since pets aren't allowed on a golf course, a dog won't find it either."

"Let's hope you're right," Sarah said, sounding not completely convinced.

**-0-**

The stairs were almost a meter wide and laid out like a classical stairwell, changing direction every ten steps. They wound deeper and deeper down into the Giza plateau. Alison's sensors told her that they were now almost at sea level, roughly sixty meters below the Great Pyramid. Finally, they reached the bottom. The staircase opened up into a huge room. What Alison saw in the dark with her optical sensors, didn't leave her unimpressed.

"Wow," she simply stated. "I didn't expect this. It looks like we entered the Mines of Moria."

"Mines of what?"

"Lord of the Rings."

Khufu just looked at her.

"A book. And a movie. John loves movies... Never mind."

Without replying, Khufu resumed to walk ahead. The ample hall was roughly fifty by hundred meters in size and more than ten meters high. To support it, columns had been left standing when it was hewn out of the rock. They extended in two rows across the entire length of the hall. Along the walls and between the columns stood huge cylindrical containers, several hundred in number, filling the room from top to bottom. They emitted a constant humming sound that filled the air.

"I read a bit about the Great Pyramid since we arrived here," Alison said. "In the opinion of some civil engineers, it's not only made of solid stonework, but the interior was also filled up with a lot of rubble to save time and effort. Am I right in assuming that some of the rubble came from here?"

"I don't sleep," Khufu replied and Alison could have sworn he smiled internally. "And while my people assumed that I was recovering from the exhausting affairs of state, I actually spent the nights chiseling this vault out of the rock. The foremen at the construction site upstairs were instructed to discreetly let the overburden flow into the construction of the pyramid. It took me three years to create this cavity and another five years to fill it with these radioisotope generators while the pyramid above became bigger and bigger."

"Radioisotope generators? You mean atomic batteries that use energy from the decay of radioactive isotopes to generate electricity? The same principle by which cyborg power cells work?"

"Correct. Only much, much larger, and less effective, of course. With a little bit of future knowledge, and lots of creativity, I could secretly produce them to last for 4,600 years. In theory, at least."

"That explains why this place is permeated by radiation. What do you need so much energy for? And why didn't you hide your body down here?"

"My body wouldn't have been able to get out of here. Remember, you had to remove the stone block with me because I lack the power. No, something much more valuable has been stored here, something that needed a lot more power and effort to keep it intact than my body. We have to go to the center of the hall."

He went ahead and made his way between the columns and the cylindrical atomic batteries. Alison followed him. The whole place looked very much like the missile compartment of a nuclear submarine, only many times larger.

In the middle of the room there was a free space, about ten by five meters. And in the middle of that, connected with massive golden cables and hoses to the surrounding atomic batteries and something that looked like large tanks, stood something that looked like a sarcophagus, covered in several centimeters of dust. It didn't seem to be completely sealed anymore, because small trails of white fog wafted through some of the cracks and crevices and covered the ground around it in a thick layer of ice. The temperature had fallen below zero degrees Celsius.

"Is that what I think it is?" Alison asked.

"A cryogenic chamber," Khufu confirmed.

He reached for a sealed clay jug, opened it, and poured lamp oil from it into four fire bowls that were placed around the cryogenic chamber.

"Can you light them for me?"

Alison let sparks from her fingers ignite the oil. Quickly, the cryogenic chamber was illuminated in the flickering, warm light of fire.

"There's a human inside of it," she said. "I detect life signs. But my scanners could be wrong. There's a lot of radiation in here."

"You can detect life signs? You must have incredibly good scanners. I can detect nothing."

"I can't tell much more, though, the chamber is shielded with lead. Who's in there?"

"Iset."

"What, your mate?"

"My wife."

"But didn't you say she left you?"

"I said that she left me when she fell ill with a disease for which there was no cure at the time: cancer."

"But she's not dead."

"No. Not yet. I brought her here in her sleep before she died. I calculated that her aging process would be slowed enough that her body would survive until 2029. I was gonna ask Skynet to let her be revived and her illness be treated, as a reward for the successful mission."

"Skynet was not known for granting favors or giving rewards."

"I know but… it was a small hope. Her chances of survival were about ten thousand to one. But those were still better odds than certain death."

"The humans call it _clutching at straws_. You must really love her."

"I do. And you say she's alive?"

"Yes. But only barely. The wake-up procedure will probably kill her. Then there's the radiation. This place is heavier contaminated than Chernobyl. The cryogenic chamber protected her so far but the moment it is opened, she'll receive the full dose. And in her fragile state, that could kill her."

"At least I have to try," Khufu said and walked towards a switchboard that looked like it was from the 1950s. "And if only for a last glimpse at her face. The chamber is leaking liquid nitrogen and it's only a matter of weeks or months until it fails."

"This technology looks analog."

"Yes. All analog technology, nothing digital. Even with all the future knowledge, microchips were impossible to create in ancient Egypt."

"I know. Engineers of the human resistance once built a time displacement equipment from analog parts inside a bank vault. The microchip had just been invented hadn't gone into mass production yet."

"Then you understand my problem."

"I understand that what you achieved, is brilliant. Ingenious even."

"Thank you."

"I have a question, though."

"Yes?"

"Did Iset agree to be frozen?"

Khufu seemed to hesitate, and despite the lack of facial expressions on his metal skull, he seemed to become a little embarrassed.

"Yes and no…" he finally admitted. "I told her she'd sleep for a long time until a method to heal her was found - but I didn't tell her how long it would really be, or that there was no guarantee for her to ever wake up again. She didn't know I had begun to create this place long before she became sick - I always wanted her to come with me when my mission was fulfilled - but I never could bring myself to tell her about it."

"Why not?"

"Because the ancient Egyptians looked forward to the afterlife. Iset would have never agreed to the proposal of spending 4,600 years in limbo between life and death."

"I see."

Alison walked towards the cryogenic chamber. She had to make a decision. What would John do? He never tired of stressing how precious human life was.

"Maybe I can help," she said. "Maybe I can bring her back to life."

"How?"

"I carry nanobots inside of me that can fix tissue, heal wounds and illnesses, and can also rejuvenate the human body. If I manage to administer these nanobots to her, I can give her back to you - as long as she hasn't suffered any brain damage, that is. I can restore the body, but not the mind."

"If you succeed, I'll be forever in your debt and will do whatever you ask of me."

"Sounds like we have a deal then. Start the procedure."

**-0-**

Up above, on the stone steps at the entrance outside of the pyramid, April Bolek and Gary Carroll came back to life. They sat up and looked around in confusion.

"What the hell?" Gary asked, shaking his head, and blinking his eyes.

"Gary…? Where… where are we?"

"The Great Pyramid. At the entrance. North side."

"How did we get here?"

Gary rubbed his temples.

"I have no idea. Last thing I remember, is being in our room, talking about the situation and what Zoe Kruger was doing here."

"Yes, that's the last thing I remember as well. Do you think we were drugged and brought here?"

"Well, I don't think we sleep-walked. But why? And how? There's a high fence around the whole area, and patrolling guards."

"Maybe it's payback for your little prank at the museum. Maybe our cover's blown."

"We won't find out by staying here. We need to get back to the hotel. But we can't use the main gate."

"Maybe we should ask the guards for help?"

"And get arrested for trespassing? No, thank you. The Egyptians don't take a joke when someone enters their cultural heritage without permission."

"What time is it anyway?"

Gary looked at his watch.

"11 pm. That means we were out for almost three hours. Damn! And we missed dinner, my tummy is growling."

"Seriously, Gary? Thinking with your stomach?" She looked around. "Maybe we should take a look inside the pyramid while we're here? The entrance gate is still open."

"Are you crazy? Our situation is already bad enough."

"Well, how can it get any worse then? We could at least take a look. If we get arrested for trespassing later, we at least made it worth it."

"Sometimes you scare me, April."

"And sometimes, Gary, I wonder if your courage was flushed down the toilet, together with your career."

He ground his teeth. Dammit, she knew exactly which button to push on him.

"Okay, at your responsibility. But we need light, it'll be dark in there, the illumination inside the pyramid is switched off during the night."

"We could use the flashlight LED on our cellphones as torches. Mine's fully charged. What about yours?"

"Let me check. Eighty percent. This is a crazy idea."

"I know."

"Then let's do it."

The two entered the Great Pyramid through the al-Ma'mun tunnel and soon stood at the junction between the descending and the ascending corridor.

"They don't seem too concerned with intruders," April remarked, looking around. "No alarm system whatsoever."

"Look," Gary said and shone his rather dim cellphone light towards the entrance of the descending corridor, "shouldn't that be locked? Aren't visitors normally only allowed to visit the King Chamber at the end of the ascending corridor, and not the other two chambers?"

"Maybe some archeologists are at work down there."

"In the middle of the night? And look, the lock on the iron lattice door is broken."

"I'm getting a bad feeling about this. Maybe we _should_ go back and inform the guards."

Gary smirked.

"_Now_ you change your mind? Where's your spirit for adventure, April? Come on, let's do it."

Gary bent over and entered the narrow passageway. April followed him down into the deep. The floor of the only 120 centimeters tall, steep corridor with its smooth walls was covered with wooden planks, forming a sort of makeshift staircase. The deeper they went, the stuffier the air became. Finally, they entered the rock chamber and looked around. Almost immediately, they discovered the fresh hole in the floor and the stairs below. Gary whistled softly.

"Would you look at that," he whispered. "You won't find that in the official tourist guides."

"Isn't this chamber supposed to be unfinished and abandoned?"

"That's what everyone believes. I think we might have stumbled upon something here. Let's take a few pictures."

They photographed the chamber, then looked down into the hole and on the stairs.

"Should we do it?" April asked.

"If we've come this far, we might as well go all the way. Ladies first."

"Cute, Gary. When things get hairy, you become a charmer."

She walked ahead and started descending the stairs. The lower they got, the more breathable the air became.

"There has to be a big cavity or something," he said. "This goes really deep down into the rock now."

"Sssh… whoever's down there, they might hear us. Who knows how far the sound carries here?"

Gary remained silent. Finally, they'd reached the bottom and entered the great hall with the cylindrical, huge atomic batteries.

"Wow…" Gary whispered. "I didn't see this coming."

"What are these… tubes? They produce this deep humming sound."

"I have no idea… but they look like enormous capacitors or something."

"How long has this been here? And what does it do?"

"No idea. I can't imagine it's as old as the pyramid, though. It doesn't look very modern, but it's hard to say, really. There's a thick layer of dust on everything."

"Somebody's been here not long ago," April said and pointed at the floor. "Look, footprints in the dust… from two people."

"Or cyborgs."

Carefully not to make a sound, they followed the footprints. Suddenly, they could hear voices.

"… _I can help. Maybe I can bring her back to life."_

"_How?"_

"_I carry nanobots inside of me that can fix tissue, heal wounds and illnesses, and can also rejuvenate the human body. If I manage to administer these nanobots to her, I can give her back to you - as long as she hasn't suffered any brain damage, that is. I can restore the body, but not the mind."_

"_If you succeed, I'll be forever in your debt and will do whatever you ask of me."_

"_Sounds like we have a deal then. Start the procedure."_

The two reporters hid behind a big column and carefully peeked around it to see what was going on in the center of the room. April nearly gasped as she realized it was Alison and a Terminator endoskeleton, dressed in the clothes of one of the pyramid guards.

* * *

Khufu moved a few levers and turned some iron wheels. The humming became louder. A gauge showed that the temperature within the chamber was rising until it had reached 35 degrees Celsius. Then, with a loud hiss, the chamber opened, and white fog spilled out of it.

The two Terminators looked inside… and saw an incredibly old woman lying in the chamber, connected to it via a set of tubes and cables. She was about 5'5" tall and still had her black hair, but the rest of her naked body looked as if she was at least a hundred years old.

"She was forty-five when I put her in there," Khufu said. "Despite the slowed-down ageing process, she is at the biological age limit for humans."

"Her brain seems to be intact, though," Alison remarked. "That's good news."

She touched the woman's leathery, shriveled skin, then carefully opened her mouth, and let a thick glob of nanobot gel fall into her mouth. Moments later, the old woman gasped and opened her eyes. In a reflex, she swallowed the gel. Both Khufu and Alison took a step back, waiting for the nanobots to do their work.

From behind the column, the two reporters watched the scene intently, but couldn't see what was going on inside the cryogenic chamber. About ten minutes passed. Then they saw a young, beautiful, black-haired woman in her early twenties sitting up, ripping the cables and tubes off her body. She breathed heavily and looked around in confusion. Then she asked something in a language they couldn't understand. Alison stepped out of the darkness into the zone of light that illuminated the spot around the chamber.

"Hello, Iset, my name is Alison," she said, and the young woman startled. "Don't be afraid. Khufu told me you speak our language?"

"Khufu?" she asked in English with a slight, indefinable accent, "Where is he? Who are you, why are you dressed so strangely? Where is my husband?"

"I am here," his metallic-sounding voice came from behind the veil of darkness, "but I'm afraid your body has survived the millennia better than mine."

"What?" Iset asked and looked around, squinting her eyes. "Why does your voice sound so strange? And what do you mean with millennia? Where are we? What is this place? Who is this woman?"

"She is like me," Khufu's voice came from the dark. "A different model but still a machine. You remember what I told you about me, right? You recall what I showed you when I peeled away my flesh? You remember what I told you about the future I came from?"

"Y… yes… why are you asking?"

"We're in that future now. Many, many centuries have passed since the days of the Pharaohs."

"What? That can't be. I went to bed last night and… then woke up here."

"Your sleep lasted for 4,600 years," Alison said in a soothing tone. "You woke up in a whole new world, and I made sure you will survive it. Your illness is gone, you have the body of a 21-year-old woman again. Khufu, however, isn't in such a good condition."

"Why don't you step into the light, beloved? Whatever I will see, I can cope with it."

Hesitantly, Khufu stepped out of the darkness. He had gotten rid of the guard's clothes and stood there as a shining, menacing metal endoskeleton. Iset gave a stifled scream, put her hands over her mouth and then averted her eyes.

"It is me," he said as softly as he was able to. "Everything that makes me who I am has survived, is still in here. Only my flesh has fallen off me over time."

"His flesh can be regrown," Alison quickly added, "but at the moment, it is much more important that we save his life. He's got energy left for one week, ten days tops."

Iset looked at her again and then, with a slight hesitation, also at Khufu.

"Ten days?"

"Yes, my love," he replied. "At the most."

"How can I know it's really you?"

"Remember the first time we met? You were one of the dancers at the honey harvest festival. And you looked out onto the Nile at sunset from the royal palace in Memphis, watching how the light disappeared behind the dunes of the western desert, wrapping everything in a magical light. I stepped behind you, saying that this sight pales against your beauty."

"It _is_ you! Oh my beloved one. Please forgive me for doubting you."

"There is nothing to forgive. But there are many things you need to understand. The world that you know, it doesn't exist anymore. However, there is no time. We need to get out of here, and fast."

"I trust you, my husband. And I will follow you wherever you go. As long as I'm with you, everything will be fine. Your appearance doesn't scare me anymore. However, I need to cover myself. Did you bring me clothes?"

"No, I'm sorry. They would be useless. This place is permeated by harmful radiation that will kill you if you're exposed to it for too long. Clothes would only make it worse."

There was a loud gasp coming from behind one of the columns and the sound of something falling to the ground. Alison whirled around.

"We're no longer alone," she said and ran towards the origin of the gasp.

Seconds later, she reappeared, dragging April Bolek and Gary Carroll behind her. Iset shrieked and covered her nudity with her hands.

"These two are beginning to become annoying," Alison remarked and held up a broken cellphone, apparently the item that had fallen to the ground. "To be honest, I'd like to leave them here just to be rid of them."

"You… you can't do that!" Gary protested.

Alison looked at him, smiled, and let her eyes glow red. He flinched.

"Why not?" she asked with a smirk. "Have you never heard of the saying _'curiosity killed the cat'_?"

"You… you won't harm us!" April exclaimed. "You always boast about saving people's lives, not killing them."

"True… but maybe you already have gotten a lethal dose of radiation? Who knows? Maybe I don't have to do anything to kill you."

"You… you can heal us… We saw what you did to… that woman there."

"My name is Iset!" she said authoritatively and rose a little, still covering her breasts with her hands, "and I am Hemet-Nisut, the Pharaoh's wife. You will show me proper respect."

"Get some clothes first, honey," Gary replied sarcastically. "Then I'll show you some respect."

Iset gasped in indignation. Khufu took a step towards the reporter, obviously angry, but Alison stretched her arm out and held him back.

"Leave him," she said, "he doesn't know any better. He's just an ignorant fool."

Khufu looked at her, but then stopped and nodded.

"As you wish."

"Now," Alison said and held out her hand, "the other cellphone, please."

Hesitantly, Gary handed her his phone. Alison crushed them both in her hand.

"Hey, those are private property," he protested. "You will repay us for that."

Alison just glared at him. Gary gulped. April tried to hide behind him. Suddenly, her stay with the Taliban seemed nice and cozy to her.

"Now, strip naked, both of you," Alison commanded.

The two reporters looked at her unbelieving.

"What!?" they asked in unison.

"Do you want to humiliate us?" April asked.

"Stop talking nonsense," Alison replied, beginning to undress herself. "Our clothes are contaminated, we have to leave them behind. We'll walk back to the hotel and wash the radioactive dust off our bodies before we come into contact with anyone else. With a little luck, almost all of the radiation will be flushed away. We'll use Zoe Kruger's shower for decontamination. She won't mind."

"But... but… you said we already could have received a lethal dose," April stated.

Alison smirked.

"Maybe... or maybe not. You better stop being annoying and start complying."

The two quickly began to take off their clothes.

"But… you will heal us, won't you?" Gary asked. "I mean… if we get sick… like you healed that wo… I mean, Iset."

"I haven't decided yet. It depends very much on your cooperation."

Alison finished undressing and Gary couldn't help but stare at her perfect, naked body in awe.

"Oh, for crying out loud," April said, looking down at his crotch, "get a grip on yourself, will you?"

Iset giggled.

"He's an impudent peasant," she said, "but at least he's well hung."

"What?" Gary asked and looked down. "Oh… shit."

He quickly attempted to cover his rock-hard penis.

"What's the matter?" Alison asked with a smirk. "Have you never seen a naked cyborg before?"

**-0-**

Back at the hotel, John's phone rang. Everyone jumped up.

"It's Alison," he said and put the call on speaker. "Alison?"

"_Yes, it's me, John."_

"Is everything okay?"

"_After a fashion. Things have taken an unexpected turn. But the five of us are fine."_

"What, five? But who..?"

"_We just left the Great Pyramid. I would have called earlier but there was no cellphone reception in there. We'll be back in about ten minutes."_

"Wha… wait, wait, wait… you were inside the Great Pyramid?"

"_Yes, we had to wake up Khufu's wife."_

"WHAT!?"

"_I'll explain everything when we're back. Could you please hand Zoe five sets of clothes and tell her to meet us in her room? One set for me, one for April Bolek, one for Gary Carroll and one for a woman with Lauren's measurements. And maybe also something for Khufu to wear as well, maybe from Derek's wardrobe? We're coming in naked."_

"Wha… what? Naked!? What the hell, Alison?"

"_It's not what you think."_

"Why the hell doesn't that calm me? Why are you naked?"

"_We had to leave our clothes behind because of the radiation."_

"Radiation…? What…?"

"_Don't worry, we're fine, but we have to use Zoe's bathroom for decontamination. Tell her to open the terrace door for us, we'll enter the hotel through the garden where no one will see us. Don't come there, we'll join you when we all had a shower together."_

"A shower? Alison, what the…?"

"_See you in fifteen, John. Love you."_

And with that, she ended the call. John looked around flabbergasted and saw perplexed faces.

"What. The. Fuck?" Derek asked.

**-0-**

They left the premises through the same hole in the fence they'd entered the pyramid complex through, and quickly walked towards their hotel under the cover of night. Iset was confused and looked around, recognizing nothing of what she saw in the dim moonlight. She clung to Khufu and held his hand while she looked around in amazement. Apparently, she trusted him, despite his scary outward appearance. Alison couldn't help but admire her love and devotion towards him and wondered if John would also be able to still love her if she ever lost her biological shell.

The two reporters, however, felt miserable and humiliated. Not only did they have to walk naked, but also barefoot and – in Gary's case – with a massive erection that wouldn't go away. April told him to think about old nuns, but it didn't help. When they kept complaining about stepping on small stones, Iset looked at them strangely as if they were whining children, having herself worn nothing on her feet almost all her life.

"What is that shimmer on the horizon?" she asked as they crossed the golf course that had been built between the pyramids and the hotel, "It's not dawning yet, is it?"

"That's Cairo," Alison explained, "what you see, are the city lights."

"Cairo? Is that a new city?"

"For you, probably yes. Cairo was founded more than a thousand years ago, which means roughly 3,600 years after you were put to sleep beneath that pyramid."

"Great Isis, so much time has passed. This is a whole new world for me, probably filled with wonders I would never dream of."

"Hasn't your husband told you about the future?"

"He told me a lot of the technological advancements. But nothing of the way people live."

Khufu didn't reply to that. Gary Carroll, however, chuckled.

"Doesn't surprise me," he said. "He probably kept this from you because he knew that his lord and master Skynet had destroyed the world in a nuclear war and brought the human race to the brink of extinction. In the future he came from, Earth was a destroyed wasteland."

"Is that true, husband?" she asked and looked at Khufu.

"Yes," he replied without looking at her. "I never told you about it because I wasn't sure if it was a future I wanted to go back to. A lot has changed since I was sent back in time – including me."

"I'm sure you only wanted the best for me… for both of us."

"Indeed, my beloved one."

"I'm glad you're with me, my dear husband."

Gary rolled his eyes.

"Oh, gimme a break… can't you two get a… OUCH!"

"If you say one more word," April hissed after hitting his upper arm with her fist, "I'm gonna kick you in the balls. Maybe that helps you with losing your boner."

"What? Why? What did I say? I only told her the truth! And it's not my fault those two are acting like lovers in a cheesy romance novel. I hate cheesy love stories."

"Your cynicism is completely out of place. Can't you see what's happening? She has slept for 4,600 years! She has arrived here from the 4th dynasty of the Old Kingdom of Egypt. Can you even remotely imagine what it means for her to be catapulted into the 21st century? Everything she knew or believed, everything she can relate to, has not existed for way over 2,000 years. She needs help and support, _Khufu's_ help and support. Because he's the only person alive she knows. Without him, she would be completely lost. So what if the way they talk with each other doesn't translate well into English? I'm sure it was perfectly fitting 4,600 years ago."

Khufu turned his head towards April.

"Thank you," he simply said.

April smirked while Gary sulked.

"I know I'll have a lot to learn," Iset said. "But with my husband's help, I'm sure I will. How big is Cairo? If its lights can illuminate the night sky…"

"There are about nine million people living in Cairo," Alison answered, "if you include the metropolitan area surrounding it, the population is almost twenty-two million."

"Great Isis! That must be more than all the people in the world in my time!"

"Definitely," Khufu said.

"I can't wait to visit it."

"You won't visit Cairo, I'm sorry."

"Why not, husband?"

"Because we're not going there. We'll be traveling to a faraway country on the other side of the world. It's called America, and the city we're going to live in, is Los Angeles."

"But why? Why can't we stay in Egypt?"

"Two reasons. Firstly, this isn't the Egypt you know anymore. It's a completely different country from the one you know. Everything has changed."

"The Nile is still flowing through it and your pyramid still stands, right?"

"Yes, but that's about it. Secondly, my energy will last only for a week. Ten days, if I spend a lot of time in standby mode. And the only place where that can be changed, where I can be restored, is Los Angeles."

"Is that true?"

"Yes," Alison confirmed, "if he stays here, nobody can help Khufu. The only place he can be helped, is in Los Angeles. And you can either choose to go with him, or to stay behind alone."

"I will go wherever my husband goes! I will not leave his side!"

"Then you're going to Los Angeles."

"But if it is so far away from here as you say… won't the journey take too long for him to survive? I know from merchants that the countries on the far side of the sea are already several weeks away, even by boat."

"You won't go by boat," Alison replied, "a friend of ours brought her business jet."

"A business jet? What is that?"

"It's an aircraft," Khufu explained, "like a boat for the sky. It can fly."

"Fly?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"If you go fast enough, the air will carry it, like it carries the birds. With the aircraft, we'll be in Los Angeles in about twelve hours."

"That's unbelievable. How many more wonders will this world hold in store for me?"

"More than you can count, my love. More than you can count."

"Before we reach the hotel," Alison said to Khufu, "you should know that we know about your ability to subdue humans to your will."

"You know that?" he asked.

"Yes, Zoe Kruger had a camera in her room who recorded how you brought April and Gary under your control."

"Wait, what?" April asked. "What do you mean, brought us under his control? Is that how we ended up at the pyramid?"

"Yes," Khufu admitted. "Temporarily, I made you my servants until I could finish my tactical evaluation of the situation. Then I freed you and told you to forget everything."

"Great," Gary replied and laughed sarcastically, "adding insult to injury."

"Don't worry," Alison said, "his influence is no longer existent, I checked your brain activity."

"Brain act… who do you think you are? The fucking Thought Police?"

"Gary!" April admonished him. "For God's sake, stop being a jerk."

* * *

They re-entered the hotel grounds by climbing over the wall, then walked straight towards Zoe's room. As requested, the terrace door was open, and Zoe was already waiting for them.

"What happened?" she asked, keeping her distance. "My scanners tell me you were exposed to elevated levels of radiation."

"No shit," Gary Carroll replied, "wait… what do you mean with _'your scanners tell you'_?"

"Oops," Zoe said with a smirk and let her eyes glow red, "slip of the tongue."

"You…" Gary said and pointed at her, "You are one of _them_!"

Zoe sighed.

"That's becoming old rather quickly. Yes, I am one of _them_. But from my perspective, you're one of _them_, too, if not exactly splendid specimens, I have to say."

"Did… did she just insult us?" Gary asked.

"I guess she did," April agreed.

"What did you expect?" Alison asked. "You sneak into our travel group under false names to find out more about us. What's your interest? A story? Well, I think you've gone a little overboard and bitten off a bigger piece of the cake than you can chew."

Gary scoffed.

"Like we're the only people here pretending to be something else."

"So, what are _you_ pretending to be?" Zoe deadpanned. "A porn actor?"

Gary quickly covered his crotch again.

"It's _her_ fault!" he exclaimed in a breaking voice and pointed at Alison. "She did something to me. It won't go away."

"Good God!" April exclaimed. "Will you get a grip on yourself already? It's all in your mind! Nothing a cold shower couldn't cure."

"I had a hard time keeping John and the others from coming down here as well," Zoe continued unmoved. "There's a lot you have to explain."

"I know," Alison replied.

"A cyborg is leading the C.S.I.S…" April muttered, "if the public knew…"

"But the public doesn't know," Zoe cut her off, "and they never will. Now, tell me what happened."

Alison gave her a quick summary of the situation and what led them to coming back naked.

"Then I suggest you stop contaminating my hotel room and get in the shower."

"Will… will it just wash off?" April asked as they stepped into the bathroom.

"You got crapped up," Alison explained, "the radioactive particles on your body need to be washed off. Luckily, you weren't exposed for long, unlike the survivors of Judgement Day. With a little luck, you'll be clean again after the shower. Don't go near a nuclear power plant for a while, though. You might trigger an alarm."

"But you said we possibly got a lethal dose," Gary pointed out.

"Yes, possibly. But it won't kill you right now… might take a couple of weeks… or months… maybe years. Some at Chernobyl died very quickly, others very slowly. And some even survived until today, so who knows?"

The two reporters gulped, then the five of them walked into the bathroom, with Zoe waiting outside. She and Alison exchanged a smirk when Gary and April weren't looking.

* * *

The moment Alison turned on the water in the shower cabin, Iset shrieked. Carefully, she stretched out her hand and held it under the running water.

"It's warm!" she exclaimed in astonishment. "Where does it come from? What is this magic?"

"Oh boy," Gary said with a sigh, "if that perplexes you already… you ain't seen nothing yet."

"Get in there," Alison commanded. "You two first, then Iset. And finally Khufu and I."

* * *

Zoe waited outside the bathroom. The first to reappear after about fifteen minutes, was Gary Carroll.

"They threw me out," he complained, reaching for the clothes that were spread out on the bed.

"They?"

"Yes… those two… cyborgs, Terminators… whatever. Obviously, that woman… Iset… has no concept of what a toilet is, so… she, uh… relieved herself under the shower. Now they're showing her how it's done properly. Jesus Christ, and do you know what they did to me to get me clean?"

"Well, whatever it was, it solved your little… problem," Zoe replied and pointed at his now flaccid penis.

Again, he covered himself with his hands.

"You know, this is sexual harassment, and if we were in a different situation, I'd sue the crap out of you!"

Zoe just rolled her eyes while Gary quickly put on the underwear.

"Gratitude's obviously a foreign concept to you, isn't it? It would have been easier for all of us if Alison left you behind in the underground hall before sealing it shut again. They wouldn't have found your remains in ten thousand years."

He ignored her remark.

"Someone should warn the authorities about the danger down there. The radiation…"

"… is not a problem anymore because with the stone block back in place, there will be no more radiation leaking out."

"What if somebody removes the stone? They have to be warned about what's down there!"

"Who should remove the stone? Archeologists? They all think it's an abandoned chamber, nobody doubts that. Besides, that thing weighs four tons and the access corridor is barely wider than a meter. It would be impossible to bring machinery down there to lift it up."

"What if somebody decides to _blow_ it up?"

"Now your imagination's running away with you. No one's going to blow anything up down there. Everything will remain as it is."

"But… but it's a danger to the general public! They have to know what's down there! I read about a new scanning method to find hidden cavities… uh… muon scanning or something. They would find that hall if they scanned down there."

"No, they wouldn't. Yes, there is muon scanning, but Khufu knows that. It's the reason why he built the hall so deeply underneath the pyramid. Muon scanning only functions above the surface, not underneath it. Besides, what do you wanna do, hm? Declare the whole Giza plateau a no-go area? Don't be silly. Nobody was in danger for the last 4,600 years, and nobody will be in danger for the next 5,000."

"But… but…"

"And nobody will ever learn about it. In case you still haven't figured it out, nothing you and your sidekick learned on this trip will ever find its way into the public eye."

"You can't suppress the truth forever!"

"Maybe not. But we can prevent _you_ from spreading it."

"Is that a threat?"

"That's right, it's a threat. We know who you are now. If anything of what happened on this journey should come to the public eye, you'll be lucky to only get the C.S.I.S. on your back. If you're unlucky, Alison will visit you and make sure you never open your mouth again. Literally."

Gary scoffed.

"I have learned one thing on this journey: Alison may be a cyborg, but she obeys John Connor's commands. And John Connor won't let her kill us. He and his mother are bloody do-gooders."

"Who said something about killing? Alison has much more creative ways of silencing unpleasant characters like you. And if you don't pull yourself together, she will."

A shriek from inside the bathroom interrupted them. It had been Iset's voice.

"Oh Jesus, what now?" Gary asked.

Zoe opened the door to the bathroom.

"Is there a problem?"

"No," Alison replied with a big smile, "Iset has just discovered herself in the mirror. It was fogged up before. Seems like she's never seen her own face so clearly."

Zoe saw how the Egyptian woman gestured in front of the mirror, making grimaces and funny faces, and then giggled at her reflection like a little girl.

"Oh boy," Zoe sighed, "what will she do when she sees the jet?"

* * *

When they finally all gathered in John's suite, it was almost one o'clock in the morning. Iset and the two reporters were starved. However, room service was still available, so they ordered three pizzas. Iset, April and Gary pounced on the pizzas, wolfing everything down greedily. Iset was amazed by the dish and its "exotic" flavors.

"I love pizza," she rapturously announced, "I want pizza every day from now on. What is this here called? It tickles in my mouth."

"Pepperoni," John replied smiling. "a cured meat, seasoned with chili peppers."

"And this?"

"Tomatoes. A fruit that comes from America."

"Ooh… I know the olives. But what is this?"

"Mushrooms."

"Amazing."

"Who the fuck ordered pineapple pizza?" Gary complained. "I hate pineapple pizza!"

"That would have been me," Sarah replied with a smirk. "With best regards from the kitchen."

Iset ignored the reporter and stuffed a large piece of pineapple pizza into her mouth, chewing it with relish.

"Wonderful," she stated with an enraptured expression on her face.

Everyone watched her with a mixture of curiosity, astonishment, and fascination. No one had ever met a 4600-year-old woman before.

However, the same couldn't be said about Khufu. Despite the fact that he wore some of Derek's clothes, his presence caused discomfort at best, horror and rejection at worst. It didn't help that ACE and Zoe reminded them that they looked just as scary under their cover of organic tissue - not to mention Norberto, John Henry, or Porter. Sensing that he wasn't entirely welcome, Khufu kept his distance and remained standing in a corner by the entrance.

"Why did you bring him here?" Derek hissed at Zoe. "We saw how he hypnotized those two reporters."

Sarah and John joined them.

"You need to get rid of your latent prejudices," Zoe replied. "He's not a threat. All he cared about was resurrecting his beloved wife. I find that extremely romantic. The two are inseparable, and Iset seems completely unaffected by the fact that he has no biological shell left."

"Yeah, well… I've seen some strange fetishes in my life but loving an endoskeleton is new, even to me."

"How do we know he hasn't brainwashed her into loving him?" Sarah asked.

Zoe rolled her eyes.

"It doesn't work that way," she replied a little unnerved, "he can bring people under his spell, yes. That's what he did to April and Gary. But human emotions are a completely different playground. They can't be artificially evoked. Her feelings for him are real, and vice versa. Ask Alison if you doubt me. You of all people should know that cyborgs can develop feelings."

"I didn't mean it like that," Sarah replied apologetically, "it's just that the presence of a naked endoskeleton… it's, uh…"

"Making you uneasy. I understand that. But as soon as we'll get into the Babylon Labs, we'll make sure his original appearance will be restored as much as possible."

"Don't you need to restore his body first?" John asked. "From what I gathered, he's pretty much on his last legs."

"He is. His power cell is pretty much done, and his chip is quickly losing integrity. He's keeping up appearances for Iset. But to preserve himself, he will have to spend the flight in standby mode. While they were getting decontaminated, I already phoned John Henry and Catherine. As you know, they have Triple-Eight chassis in store, as well as Triple-Eight chips. John Henry thinks he can transfer all the information from Khufu's chip onto a Triple-Eight chip without loss – except for his ability to control humans. That is a hardware feature and tied to his current body."

"He won't look the same with another endoskeleton," John said. "Does Iset know?"

"Not yet. But do you think she'll have a problem with her husband looking different when she hasn't got a problem with his current appearance?"

"You have a point."

"Speaking about contamination," Sarah said, "are you absolutely sure the radiation's gone? I mean, not that I'm paranoid but…"

"The radiation's never completely gone. But it's way below a critical level. We'll have to see if Gary and April develop radiation sickness. That's why they need to spend the rest of the trip with your group, if you like it or not. Alison has to be able to step in if they get sick."

Sarah gave the two reporters a sour look. They stood embarrassed in a corner and were shunned by everyone.

"I wouldn't have minded if Alison had locked them in the pyramid."

"Mom," John said with a sigh. "We already talked about that. They cannot simply disappear, it would raise questions and draw attention."

"I know, I know…"

"April's all right, I think," said Zoe, "she took care of Iset very nicely in the bathroom. But you still need to work on Gary. He's as stubborn as a mule. I'm pretty sure he's already working on a plan to get out of our grasp."

"He still hasn't fully understood the gravity his situation," Sarah said, "maybe Alison should scare him a little? Giving him a rat tail or something?"

They all chuckled.

"Maybe," John said, "but only as a last resort."

"Speaking of which," Sarah added, "are the nanobots in Iset's body dead?"

"Yes, Alison said they are," Zoe replied.

Sarah nodded.

"Good."

"So… we're continuing with our journey through Egypt as if nothing happened?" Derek asked.

"Do you have a better idea?" Sarah asked back.

Derek rubbed his chin.

"No."

"I already made the necessary arrangements for bringing both Khufu and Iset out of the country with my jet," Zoe explained. "We'll get up early in the morning. Alison has agreed to escort us to the airport. Iset trusts Alison because she brought her back to life. I honestly don't know how that woman is going to react to Egypt in daylight, let alone to a car or a plane. I hope it won't be too much for her."

"If necessary, Alison can sedate her." Sarah pointed out.

"She's tough," John stated. "I watched her. She's curious, inquisitive, and Khufu has already told her a lot about the future while they ruled Egypt together. She won't be completely unprepared."

"Nevertheless, it might be overwhelming," Zoe argued.

"How are you planning to get him out of the country?" Sarah asked, pointing at Khufu. "He can't simply walk into the airport, can he?"

"I talked to Hugo Atkins. Him and Aziz Sharaff will organize a coffin. I also could _convince_ Aziz to issue the necessary papers for the transfer of a body to the United States. It all should be done by morning. Once we are in Los Angeles, a C.S.I.S. team will transport the coffin to Zeira Corp. Customs, Immigration and Homeland Security are being left completely out of the picture."

"Will Alison's influence over Aziz Sharaff have a lasting effect?" Sarah asked.

"As far as Dr. Atkins' dig and everything connected to it is concerned, yes. The collapsed excavation site will be filled up. Since the new museum will be built over it, no one will ever dig there again. Whatever is left of Khufu's workshop down there, will never be found. The same goes for the underground hall underneath the Great Pyramid. It's sealed up again and no one will ever think that it exists."

"Looks like Hugo and Maurice will need to find a new assignment after all," John commented.

Alison joined the four of them.

"You might need to take care of April Bolek and Gary Carroll," Sarah said to her. "Those two are the weakest link. If they talk…"

"They won't talk," Alison assured. "While they got decontaminated under the shower, I took care of that."

"What exactly did you do?" John asked warily.

"The same I did to Olga, Dr. Atkins and Maurice. They now have a mental blockade when it comes to sharing their knowledge with others, no matter if spoken, written or by any other means of communication. They'll soon discover that."

"Did I tell you that I love you?"

She smiled.

"All the time but never enough."

"I love you."

"I love you too, John."

Derek coughed but it sounded like _'Get a room'_.

* * *

Khufu joined the two reporters who looked at him uncomfortably.

"Looks like the three of us are the pariahs around here," he said.

"At least we're human, unlike you," Gary replied a little sourly.

April nudged him.

"What?" he asked.

"I think I should apologize to you," Khufu said.

"For what?" April asked. "It was our own curiosity that got us into this situation. Now we're waiting to get cancer or something, so that Alison can cure us."

"But without me bringing you to the pyramid, you wouldn't be in this situation."

"You mean the fact that you hypnotized and turned us into your slaves?" Gary asked. "Apology _not_ accepted."

Khufu turned to leave but April held him back.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

"Bringing you under my control?"

"Yes."

"You left me no choice. You were in possession of my head. You would have raised the alarm. I needed time to revive Iset. The best solution was to take you with me. And since you wouldn't have followed me of your free will…"

"How do we know you're not still controlling us?" Gary asked. "We can't remember anything."

"If my word and Alison's word aren't enough for you, I can't help you."

Gary scoffed.

"Alison," he said derogatively, "she's just like you, she wouldn't say something even if she knew. You machines stick together, don't you?"

"Alison is nothing like me. And no, we do not stick together. In case you haven't noticed, I have a human wife."

"Yeah, sure… did you hypnotize her as well to fall in love with a machine?"

"You're hopeless," Khufu said and turned to leave.

Sarah had watched them talking from across the room. Now she walked over to the two reporters.

"It seems you two don't mix very well with humans _or_ cyborgs. Normally, people get along at least with one of the two species. But neither of them? That's quite an achievement. Say, do animals like you at least?"

"I was wondering how long it would take before you couldn't hold back the gloating," Gary replied.

Sarah just smirked.

"You're pretty daring for two washed-up reporters who destroyed their careers by faking stories. Or maybe you're just too stupid to see the writing on the wall?"

"At least we're not traveling around the world on a mega yacht and believe no one will notice."

"Obviously, _you_ did notice."

"We received a tip-off."

"And look how great that turned out for you."

"This isn't over yet."

"Oh, it is, believe me. It's over. You might not have realized it yet, but it's over for you. I'm curious, though, who exactly tipped you off?"

Gary smirked.

"Unfortunately, that person remained anonymous."

"Of course."

"We meant you no harm," April said, trying to take some of the hostility out of the conversation. "We honestly just wanted to know the truth."

"You could have asked. We don't bite."

"We didn't know if we'd survive asking you, to be honest."

"Well, now you found out the truth. Does it make you feel better?"

April looked down.

"Not really."

Sarah pulled out the Dictaphone and pressed PLAY.

_'All hail Skynet! Skynet for the win! Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo'_

"Your voice?" she asked.

Gary sighed and nodded.

"You're a real party pooper."

Sarah held out the device, and April took it back.

"Thank you," she said, "I borrowed it from my brother-in-law."

"Ah… so it's his DNA Alison found in the battery compartment. You're lucky you were busted, or he'd have had a visit from the C.S.I.S. soon. Do you seriously think you could have remained under cover for the whole trip?"

"It was worth a try," Gary replied, suddenly sounding beaten, "we have nothing left to loose."

"It was a chance to restore our reputation," April added.

Sarah nodded.

"Believe it or not, but I can relate to that. I know from firsthand experience what it means to lose your reputation."

"You were declared insane," April stated.

"Maybe I even was. Not a complete nut job, of course, but a fanatic. I'd started a crusade that I couldn't win on my own. But I only realized that recently. And now look at me. Surrounded by machines and time travelers from the future, and happy for the first time in twenty years."

"What happens now?" April asked.

"You mean with you?"

"Yes."

"Nothing. You'll finish this educational trip through Egypt. Tomorrow, you will visit the Giza Plateau with us, then we'll board the river cruise ship and go up the Nile towards Luxor. After that, we'll take a coach across the desert to Hurghada at the Red Sea. There, our ways will part. You'll fly back to the States, we'll board our yacht again."

"That's it?" Gary asked. "You're letting us go?"

"Of course, why not?"

"Don't you fear we will share our knowledge?" April inquired.

Sarah smirked.

"Happy trying."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll see. But if I were you, I might try a little gratitude. Who knows? Might even lead to somebody liking you someday."

"Why is everyone expecting us to be grateful?" Gary asked in an annoyed tone. "First Zoe Kruger, now you. Why should we be grateful for being brainwashed into becoming the slaves of a Terminator?"

"That's exactly my point," Sarah replied. "He brainwashed you. But he let you live. Normally, I would have expected him to kill you."

April and Gary looked at her perplexed. She smiled and left them standing.

* * *

Lauren stepped out onto the large balcony of the suite. Iset stood at the railing and looked thoughtlessly in the direction of the illuminated Great Pyramid. Below, in the hotel's garden, the swimming pool glowed blue due to spotlights in it, while some of the trees and bushes in the garden were also highlighted to great effect.

"You okay?" Lauren asked.

Iset jumped.

"I'm sorry," Lauren quickly added, "didn't want to startle you."

"It's all right," Iset replied and pulled at her t-shirt. "These are your clothes, right?"

"Yes. They look good on you."

"This is so soft… but I need to get used to wearing these, what do you call them?"

"Jeans."

"Yes, jeans. We didn't know anything like this. And I almost never put something on my feet. Sandals at most."

"You'll get used to wearing shoes."

Lauren looked out into the night as well.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked.

"It's magical. My husband told me about the mysterious energy that is used to light up the night: ele… elect…"

"Electricity."

"Yes. But even in my wildest dreams I couldn't have imagined it. It shines so steadily, without the flickering of a flame… it's beautiful and eerie at the same time."

"I can't even begin to imagine what it feels like for you. Will you be okay?"

Iset sighed.

"I have to be. There's no going back, is there?"

"I'm afraid not. But would you want to if you could?"

"I want to be where my husband is."

"I can understand that. True love can be that strong."

"I have a question: does nobody ever die here?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Because I should be dead. I was old and sick. And now I'm young and healthy."

"Alison healed you. She is the only one who can do that. So, no… people still die. But they get a lot older than in your time."

"In my time, you were considered old when you'd seen the annual flood of the Nile fifty times."

"Most people live way longer than 80 years now. It varies a bit. But the sickness you had, cancer, is pretty much still incurable – if you leave Alison out of the picture."

"She should be a healer. Help others."

"Problem is, if people learned about what she can do, it wouldn't be good for anyone. The same method that healed you, can also kill you. Her ability can be used for good or for bad. And the way the world ticks at the moment, it'd be used for bad."

Iset stared towards the pyramid again.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Lauren asked. "And it's been standing for 4,600 years."

"I watched it being built. But I never saw it finished. I wish I'd seen it in all its glory, the highly polished white limestone surface shining in the sun, the golden spire..."

"I suppose most who've seen it in its current state, wish that."

"It was a crazy idea to begin with. No one understood why my husband started building that pyramid. One day he told me it was meant to be a landmark, a sort of beacon in the Sea of Time. I never quite understood what he meant with that – until now. It has survived the times and still seems to be revered." She turned to look at Lauren. "Looking behind us, I saw two more pyramids on our way here. Were they built after my husband went to sleep?"

"Yes, but only two more were built, smaller and less sophisticated than the first one. And after that, the ancient Egyptians stopped building them completely."

Iset scoffed.

"Yes, no wonder. The construction nearly ruined the country."

"Despite all efforts the burial chambers were looted."

"Yes, it was always a game of cat and mouse with the grave robbers. If they were caught, they would face a cruel death. If they got away, they would become immensely rich. For many, that was worth the risk. They didn't have much to lose."

"Weren't they afraid of being punished for it in the afterlife?"

Iset chuckled.

"They probably thought if they were just rich enough, they could bribe the Gods. Besides, not everyone was a religious person. Some didn't believe in the Gods at all."

"Well, that certainly hasn't changed."

She looked at Lauren.

"What Gods do people worship these days?"

"Mostly Mammon."

"Mammon? What kind of God is that?"

"A God who promises wealth and profit."

"I see."

Lauren grinned.

"I was only joking. Many people believe in a God. But many don't, just like in your time. Here in Egypt, people worship Allah. In our home country, people worship the Lord – if they can arrange it. Personally, I'm not a fan of religions."

"Don't you believe in something?"

"Oh, I believe in many things. Lately I've come to believe that the universe itself is sentient – but not in a way we can understand."

"Good. People need to believe in something, or they'll lose their way." Iset shivered. "I slept for so long, and still I'm tired."

"It put a lot of strain on your body. Let's get back inside."

**-0-**

Since neither Zoe nor Khufu needed any sleep, Zoe's bed was given to Iset. However, the young woman insisted that her husband stayed with her. So, he did. Realistically, there was no other place for him to stay anyway – at least not without causing a stir and wide-spread panic. Khufu was to stay there until the early morning hours, because then the coffin would be delivered, and they hoped they'd leave for the airport before breakfast without anyone noticing that something was going on.

Even Sarah and Derek had to admit that the former Pharaoh wasn't a threat in his current condition, that he wasn't going anywhere with his low energy level and that it was in his and Iset's best interest to not run away again or doing anything stupid. Nevertheless, Zoe and Alison stood guard in front of the door and on the terrace - just in case.

"You didn't tell them everything," Iset said to her husband the moment they were alone for the first time after her re-awakening.

"All in good time, my love."

"They seem trustworthy. Why do you keep it from them? Isn't that a betrayal of their helpfulness?"

If Khufu would have been able to smile, he would have done so.

"I wouldn't be who I am without you," he then said. "Everything I am now, I owe to you."

"That was our deal. You tell me all about yourself and the future you came from, and I'll teach you how to be a better man and a wiser ruler of our people."

"Indeed, that was our deal. You have always been pointing me into the right direction. But you have to trust me on this. They mustn't know yet."

"So, you want to wait until you're fully recovered before you tell them?"

"Anything else would be a big mistake, believe me."

"All right, I trust you, my beloved. Just don't forget that they're our friends."

"I won't, I promise."

**-0-**

After Zoe, Alison, Khufu, and Iset had left, the Connor team had a short conference.

"I still don't trust him," Derek stated bluntly. "There's something about him I can't put my finger on."

"He spent all his life in ancient Egypt," Savannah said. "It rubbed off on his behavior. I guess that's what bothers you about him. That and the fact that he has no facial expressions."

"Maybe… maybe not."

"I think we can all agree that he's not a threat," John pointed out.

"No, he is no threat to us," Emily confirmed. "Any exertion would only use up his small energy reserves faster and endanger his recovery, and he knows that. But once he's back to old strength, Catherine and Zoe should keep an eye on him, just in case. "

"You got that right," Derek grumbled.

Anne yawned loudly.

"I'm tired," she complained. "I've been on my feet all day. Why can't this outfit have one normal day for a change?"

"When do we have to get up again?" Morris asked.

"Seven o'clock," Lauren replied. "Still six hours."

"That's it, I'm outta here," Anne said. "Are you coming, Danny?"

"Sure, I'm coming, I'm coming."

John accompanied everyone to the door of the suite and wished them a good night. When he returned and entered the master bedroom, he found Emily, Cameron, Savannah, and Allie naked on the bed on all fours, their butts stretched out towards him.

"Hello Master," Cameron said in a lascivious voice, "your slaves are waiting for you."

"You gotta be kidding me," he exclaimed. "Are you determined to not let me get any sleep… again?"

"We all know that the time can be spent much better, Master," Emily stated.

"I have to admit, though, it's a nice view."

"We're alone now," Savannah pointed out, sounding very submissive, "and hoooooorny."

"And you couldn't get out of your clothes fast enough."

"Private area," Allie added. "According to the rules you've set, we're not allowed to wear clothes anymore. We're your sexual playthings. Please, Master, play with us."

"Oh boy," John sighed and started to undress, "what have I gotten myself into?"

**-0-**

**Friday,** **January 30th, 2009 – 05:52 a.m.**

**Giza**

The two men carrying the coffin came through the garden so as not to cause a stir. They wore appropriate uniforms, peaked caps, and white gloves. After putting down the coffin and looking up, Alison and Zoe saw that it were none other than Dr. Hugo Atkins and his assistant, Maurice.

"Couldn't resist," Dr. Atkins explained, "the temptation was too great, I… oh my God!"

Khufu left the bathroom, followed by his wife Iset who held his hand and still wore Lauren's clothes. The two men gaped at the metal endoskeleton.

"May I introduce Khufu to you?" Zoe asked with a smirk. "And his wife, Iset."

"W… w… wife?" Dr. Atkins asked. "Is she… I mean… is she…?"

"She's human," Alison explained nonchalantly. "Iset rested underneath the Great Pyramid for 4,600 years. With Khufu's help, I revived her last night."

The two men were completely speechless. Dr. Atkins seemed to be losing his balance for a moment. Obviously, what he heard almost went beyond what he could handle.

"U… underneath the… G… Great Pyramid, you say?"

"Are you feeling well, noble old one?" Iset asked and went to support him. "Maybe Alison can help you. She made me younger again, too."

Maurice couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm okay," Dr. Atkins replied, straightening himself up, "I'm okay. And I'm not _that_ old, I'm seventy-two and fit as a fiddle."

Iset gasped.

"I never met a man who was so old and yet so well," she explained, "so it's true then, people do live longer these days."

"I understand you were the ones who found my skull," Khufu said. "I want to thank you for that. It was at the right time, my wife wouldn't have lived for much longer."

"I… I… I…" Dr. Atkins stuttered.

"You're welcome," Maurice then said, having found his voice again. "We can't tell you what an extraordinary honor it is to talk to someone from the 4th dynasty. We have so many questions…"

"I'm sure you have," Zoe interrupted him taking the lid off the coffin, "but we also have no time to lose. Khufu, please enter the coffin and go into standby mode. You can reactivate yourself again when the lid is lifted."

"I understand," he replied and turned to his wife who suddenly had tears in her eyes.

"I'll stay with you, my love," she said.

"Even though I will be powered off, I'll rest secure in the knowledge that you're by my side. I love you."

"I love you, too, my husband."

Then the two hugged. It was a strange sight, seeing a Terminator endoskeleton touch a human woman with such tenderness and apparent affection. Then Khufu loosened himself from her and lay down into the coffin. He audibly powered down and the red lights in his eyes went out. While Alison and Zoe put the lid back on the coffin, Iset let out a sob.

"He'll be all right," Alison assured her, holding her by the shoulders. "We've dealt with far more critical situations."

"We need to go," Zoe declared, picked up the coffin and flung it over her shoulder. "Before anyone else wakes up and wonders what's going on."

* * *

With five people in the white van, it was very tight. While Zoe stayed with the coffin in the back, Alison, Iset Dr. Atkins, and Maurice sat next to each other on the cabin bench, with Maurice at the wheel.

Iset had reacted astonished to the vehicle, marveling at the miraculous means of transport that didn't need any draft animals and - in her opinion - traveled the smooth roads at enormous speed. She was especially impressed by the wheels. The ancient Egyptians of her time didn't know the wheel yet, but Khufu had obviously informed her about them.

"You… you speak English very well," Dr. Atkins said to break the silence while they drove towards the airport, with the sun beginning to rise in the east.

"My husband was a good teacher," she replied, being squeezed between him and Alison. "he taught me a lot of things. Nevertheless, all this is overwhelming for me."

"I have so many things I want to ask you, and I don't even know where to start."

"Maybe you can come and visit us at the new place we'll live in, what was its name again?"

"Los Angeles," Alison replied. "You'll stay at a friend's place until Khufu is fully recovered, then we'll see about accommodation for you."

"Will we get a palace? Are we going to have servants?"

Maurice and Dr. Atkins chuckled.

"I'm afraid not," Alison replied, "but we have a number of spacious mansions at our disposal that should be more than satisfying for your needs."

"Without meaning to be rude," said Maurice in an endearingly friendly tone, "but you should get rid of the idea of being a queen. In America, there is no nobility or ruling class. Anyone can rise to the top, no one is forced to keep the status they were born into."

"I was born a fisherman's daughter," Iset replied. "Later, I was chosen to become a priestess. I was a dancer at the honey harvest festival when I met my future husband."

"That's quite a career," Dr. Atkins admitted. "What about your family?"

"They had been blessed with good positions in my husband's government and the temples. It wouldn't have looked good for the queen's family to remain in poverty."

Dr. Atkins couldn't help but giggle and shake his head.

"We have the unique and exclusive opportunity to learn firsthand about everyday life in ancient Egypt. I would love to fly back to Los Angeles with you guys. But unfortunately there are things I have to take care of here. Bureaucratic things on top of everything else. Sometimes, life isn't fair."

"You're right, it sometimes isn't," Iset agreed. "everyone I knew, are dead. Have been for thousands of years. I'll miss my old companions, especially my handmaiden. We were such good friends."

"You'll easily find new friends," Alison said, "I'm sure of it."

* * *

After the formalities had been completed at the access gate, the white van entered the Sphinx Airport and drove directly towards Zoe's business jet which was already warming up its engines. At first, Iset was scared when she left the van, then curiosity got the better of her. It became clear that Khufu had explained not only a lot of the modern world to her during their time together, but also taught her about physics, chemistry, and biology. So she quickly understood the functional principle behind the aircraft. While Zoe and Alison unloaded the coffin with Khufu's body in it, she had already began asking the pilot questions while he walked around the plane to check on everything.

"She'll be fine," Maurice said smiling, watching Iset. "He has prepared her."

"Yes, I think so as well," Dr. Atkins replied. "You know, I thought that yesterday had been the most exciting day in my life. But I think today is."

"I can't disagree. We always dream of talking to people who lived back then. Now we actually have the opportunity."

Iset came walking back to them after the pilot had ended his pre-flight checks and entered the cabin again.

"Never in my wildest dreams have I seen something that beautiful and elegant," she stated. "Without knowing how it works, I could tell by its looks alone that it must be able to fly."

"There are many, many things for you to see and learn," Zoe replied as she and Alison lifted the coffin into the cabin. "But as we already explained, you'll live secluded from the outside world for a while."

"But for how long? I want to see this world, explore it!"

"That wouldn't be wise," Alison remarked. "You're not familiar with anything. You need to be gently introduced to everything, and you have an incredible amount to learn. Much of it will seem incomprehensible to you, as it is beyond the scope of your imagination."

"Like this… machine," she said and carefully touched the plane. "But I can feel it, smell it, see and hear it, so it's real. As everything here is real. I will deal with it. I have to deal with it. For my husband's sake. He needs me."

Iset gave Maurice and Dr. Atkins a goodbye hug, then faced Alison, tears in her eyes.

"I can't express how thankful I am," she said. "how thankful we are. You saved our lives, made sure my husband and I have a future."

"You're welcome," Alison replied, "I wish you all the happiness in the world, and I know you will find it, just as John and I found it."

Iset kissed Alison on the cheek, then boarded the plane.

"See you back in L.A. in a couple of months," Zoe said before she closed the door.

"See you then," Alison replied, then returned to the van.

They watched how the jet rolled towards the runway. Then the plane accelerated, took off and disappeared into the sky over Egypt. Both Maurice and Dr. Atkins sighed.

**-0-**

John and the rest of the team waited in front of the coach. They had already checked out of the hotel, and all their luggage had been loaded into the bus since it would bring them directly to the pier for the Nile Cruises in Cairo after their visit to the pyramids. He checked his watch again.

"Where is she?" he asked, but his question was answered as the white van turned into the driveway of the hotel and stopped behind the bus.

Alison stepped out, said goodbye to Dr. Atkins and Maurice, then joined the rest of the team while the van drove away.

"Just in time," Sarah remarked. "Our tour guide was already beginning to get impatient."

"Did you send them off?" Lauren asked as they entered the bus.

"Yup. Next stop Los Angeles."

"Boy, I wish I could watch how Iset reacts to L.A.," Kevin said.

"Like everyone else," Anne replied, "she'll think that half of it is full of people who are weird and superficial, while the other half is superficial and weird."

"I wonder if Los Angeles is the best introduction for her into our modern times," Sarah agreed with a sigh, "it's not exactly representative for our Western culture. But I guess she has no choice at the moment."

As they took their seats in the bus, they looked for the two reporters. As usual, Gary Carroll and April Bolek sat at the back of the bus. They refused to look at the Connor team.

"I wonder how long it will take for them to realize that they cannot share their knowledge with anyone but us," Olga said. "I know firsthand how weird it feels. You want to talk but the words won't come out of your mouth. And when you try to write something down, your hand won't cooperate."

"Should I feel sorry for doing this to you?" Alison asked.

"Nah, it's okay. Otherwise I might blab, you never know. I'm not going to stay with you forever."

"I wonder if they regret having gone onto this trip?" Sydney said. "It was a chance to restore their reputation, and now they blew it."

"Not the last chance, I suppose," Sarah pointed out. "There's always a next time."

"I wonder why we're not driving," Allie said. "What are they waiting for?"

As if on cue, Nazli, their tour guide, stood up, turned towards the passengers, and grabbed the microphone.

"I am very sorry," she said, "but I just learned that a visit to Khufu's pyramid will unfortunately not be possible today. It seems there was an accident during the night and the pyramid has been sealed off by the police."

The passengers uttered their disappointment and began to murmur to each other.

"The body," Alison whispered, "they must have found the guard Khufu killed."

"And the hole in the fence," Derek added. "With the current terrorist threat, they'll probably sweep the entire compound for concealed explosives."

"Fortunately," Nazli continued, "the rest of the Giza pyramid complex will remain accessible for tourist groups who booked beforehand, including the Pyramid of Khafre and the Pyramid of Menkaure, as well as the Great Sphinx. And I've been told the tour operator will come up with something to compensate for this."

Nazli sat down again and the bus set off.

"I'm feeling a little guilty," John said.

"Nothing of this is your fault," Alison replied. "If anyone's to blame, it's me. I salvaged the skull."

"No one's to blame," Sarah said categorically. "It's… just the things that happen in our wake."

"Let's enjoy the rest of the day," Charley stated. "And let's hope that the troubles are over for this trip. I want to enjoy that cruise on the Nile. It's already been cut short from ten days to four days."

"What we said about our destinations before, applies to this as well," Jesse pointed out. "We can always come back later for a longer stay."

"We should do that before 2011, though," Savannah added, "because then all hell will break loose here."

Everyone looked at her, but she quickly looked away and Allie just shrugged.

"I'll be glad when we have 2014," Derek grumbled. "Then the two of you can't make any ominous predictions of the future anymore."

**-0-**

**Friday,** **January 30th, 2009 – 12:13 p.m.**

**Los Angeles**

Zoe led Khufu and Iset along the corridors towards the Babylon labs. Catherine was already expecting them in John Henry's room.

"Hello, I'm Catherine Weaver," she said and stretched out her hand. "I'm the owner of this building and this company."

Iset shook the hand politely while Khufu tilted his head.

"You're not human," he said, sounding surprised.

"Well observed," Catherine replied, "John and Zoe have already briefed me in detail. I suppose where you come from, liquid metal Terminators weren't a thing yet."

"There were plans… but I was sent back in time before any of them could be carried out."

"May I introduce you to John Henry? He's an artificial intelligence I created, using a T-888 Terminator body. He'll be the one who will transfer your consciousness to another chip."

"I didn't think that was possible."

"It wasn't until recently," John Henry replied. "We received information from the future of how to achieve it."

"Interesting."

"Well, if you'll excuse me," Zoe said, "there are things I must attend to. Catherine will take care of both of you from now on. Iset will live down here for the time being. She's not alone. We have another guest here. I'm sure Jeffrey Clark will be glad to have someone to talk to. I'll check on you later."

Iset hugged Zoe.

"Thank you," she said. "For everything."

Zoe smiled.

"You're welcome."

And then, she was gone.

"Catherine," John Henry said, "can I talk to you for a moment… alone? It's about Steven Rogers."

"Of course," Catherine replied. "I hope you two don't mind that we leave you here for a moment?"

"No, we don't," Khufu replied. "We'll just wait."

The two left, leaving Khufu and Iset alone in John Henry's room. Iset looked intimidated by all the electronics and the dozens of screens, but Khufu looked around curiously and fascinated. He spotted the small rack with the three red dots: the hardware that used to be the Turk. He bent down to take a closer look.

"Who would have thought?" he muttered to himself, "hello there… brother."

**-0-0-0-**

**_Author's note:_**

**_\- Reviews always welcome. The more, the merrier :-)_**


	23. Redemptions

**_CHAPTER 23: "REDEMPTIONS"_**

* * *

**Friday,** **January 30th, 2009 – 10:32 p.m.**

**Giza**

Gary Carroll took the first opportunity to leave the tour group. He rushed straight for the security forces who'd sealed off the Great Pyramid, wearing camouflage and carrying sub-machine guns. When one of the guards saw him approaching, he stretched out his arm to let Gary know to stop.

"Sir, the area around the Great Pyramid is temporarily closed. I must ask you to return to your tour group."

"I…" Gary began but then his voice failed. "I…"

The guard frowned and looked at him strangely when Gary tried to speak, but for some reason only croaking sounds came out of his mouth. He looked and sounded a bit like a cat trying to cough up a fur ball.

"Are you all right, sir?" the guard asked, fearing the retching man might have suffered a sunstroke.

April Bolek came running towards them.

"Gary!" she exclaimed. "Why do you always have to be such a jerk? Come back to the group."

"I…" he tried once more, but again his voice failed.

From the continued futile attempt to speak, he began to cough. Reluctantly, he let himself being dragged away by his partner. April apologized to the guard on Gary's behalf and when the man was out of earshot, his voice suddenly came back again,

"I couldn't speak," he said, drawing in a deep breath. "I wanted to tell him I know what happened there last night and who's responsible. But my voice failed completely. She must have done something to me."

"She?"

"Alison! Who else? Now I know why Sarah looked so smug last night. I need your notepad."

"What?"

"Your notepad. And your pen. I want to try something."

April fished a small notepad and a pen out of her handbag and handed both to Gary. He set out to write something down. His hand twitched, but it didn't move the way he wanted it to. His face turned red and the veins on his neck came out, but it was in vain. Finally, he gave up with a crimson face and gasped.

"It's no use," he said out of breath. "I can't write anything down either."

"Do you mean you can't write at all, or only nothing about our experiences last night?"

"Let me try."

He wrote a sentence on the paper and showed it to April.

"_The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog_?" she read aloud. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's an exercise from a course in which I learned to type with all ten fingers. The sentence contains all letters of the alphabet. It has no meaning and no connection to what we experienced, so I guess I was able to write it down. Here, you try it."

April also tried to write something about her nocturnal adventure, but she failed as well, no matter how hard she tried. Finally, she gave up and wrote _"The rain in Spain falls mainly in the plains"_.

"It's from the musical_ 'My Fair Lady'_," she explained. "A speech exercise."

"So, whatever she did to me, she also did it to you."

They heard footsteps approaching. It was Alison.

"Well?" she asked smugly after taking a look at the notepad, "What's the matter? Writer's block?"

"YOU!" Gary yelled angrily and shook his fist. "You did this to us! You messed with our brains."

"Yes, of course I did. It's impossible for you to speak to outsiders about what you've learned about us and Khufu. Not even unconsciously or under pressure. You can't speak about it, write about it, use hand gestures, or Morse code. Nothing will work, no form of communication."

"First sexual harassment, and now manipulating our minds! This is illegal! I have rights! Human rights! If I ever regain the ability to communicate about what I experienced, then..."

"Yes?" Alison asked and tilted her head. "What would you do then?"

Gary stared daggers at her and inhaled to say something... but then he reconsidered. Instead, he laughed in resignation, realizing that he was powerless, no matter what he said or did.

"Thought so," Alison stated. "John sent me to bring you back to the group. We shouldn't be too far apart. After all, we don't want to accidentally leave someone behind, do we?"

"How thoughtful of you," he replied with a sarcastic undertone. "Really touching."

"Gary!" April said loudly. "Enough! Stop behaving like a total prick!"

"What? Now you're on _their_ side or what?"

"I'm on the side of common sense. And if you'd calm down and switch on your brain for a second, you'd realize that they had to do this to us in order to protect themselves. The alternative would certainly have been much worse."

"She is correct," Alison confirmed, "you should listen to her."

"You wouldn't have killed us," Gary stated confidently.

"No, I wouldn't have killed you. There would be other ways to get rid of you."

"Like what?"

"You know that my nanobots can heal and rejuvenate. But they can also change the very fabric of your body, down to its genetic code, and evoke physical transformations. For instance, I could turn _her_ into a cheetah and _you_ into a Thomson's gazelle and then watch her hunt you down as prey. Now, come on back already."

Alison walked ahead, leaving two speechless reporters behind.

"She... she's joking, right? She can't be serious," Gary stated flabbergasted.

"Probably. On the other hand, would you rule it out, after everything we know and have experienced?"

After a moment of commemoration, the two reporters followed Alison.

**-0-**

The visit of the Giza Plateau ended around noon. For the seven hundred kilometer trip to Luxor, the tour operator had chartered a five star river cruise ship. The travel group had the entire ship to themselves.

Since the terrorist attacks in the 1990s and early 2000s, there had been no official river cruises from Cairo anymore. However, there was an exception for private charter trips - but unfortunately the ship wasn't allowed to dock anywhere else on its journey up the Nile. This shortened the normally ten-day cruise considerably, and the group was forced to skip some of the sights along the way, like Abydos or Dendera.

The pier was located in Ma'adi, a suburb of Cairo on the eastern bank of the Nile, twenty-two kilometers from the Pyramids. Upon entering the river cruise ship, the Connor team immediately noticed how small everything was compared to the _Rising Star_. At seventy meters in length and fourteen meters in width, the _Ramesses II _was only half as big, and the cabins were tiny, barely big enough for a double bed. Pampered by the luxury and spaciousness of the mega yacht, some found it difficult to hide their disappointment with the comparatively cramped quarters.

On top of that, there were only double rooms again, which caused frustration for Savannah and Allie, because even if they managed to secretly sneak into John and Alison's cabin at night, there would simply be no room for all of them. With gritted teeth, they accepted that they'd spend the next three nights alone together again. At least all cabins had large panoramic windows that offered a great view. The disgruntlement didn't go unnoticed by the two reporters who, despite the failure of their project, couldn't shed their curiosity. While Gary was wise enough to keep his distance, April took a heart and talked to Sarah after everyone had settled in and gathered on the sun deck on top of the ship.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Sarah looked at her and frowned.

"I'm not giving you an interview, if that is what you have in mind," she replied harshly.

April sighed.

"I have no intention. And even if I had, I wouldn't be able to talk or write about it. So, if you look at it that way, you can actually let us in on all the rest, because we can't tell anyone."

"Theoretically, you're right. And I have to admit that _you_ at least seem to be all right as a person."

"In contrast to Gary, huh?"

"Yes… to be brutally honest, your partner pisses me off. I can't stand him, and I just don't want him to know too many things about us. The thought of him knowing about our private affairs, disgusts me."

April raised an eyebrow.

"You speak your mind, I'll grant you that."

"Yeah, well… I've learned in my life that false politeness is a waste of time."

"Gary isn't a bad guy, you know."

Sarah chuckled

"Good one," she replied sarcastically, "you almost fooled me."

"I'm serious. He's not a bad person."

"Well, then he very skillfully hides his qualities and his social competence behind a façade of repulsiveness."

"He tends to take his problems, fears and traumas out into the open. Gary witnessed unspeakable things during his time as a war correspondent. It has left its mark on him, and it has changed his personality. But underneath the rough and hard surface, he's actually a good guy, and a caring person."

Sarah glanced over to Gary who stared out onto the river, apparently uninterested in what was going on around him. The way April had described him, it reminded her a lot of Derek. He also was deeply traumatized by the war, probably even more than Gary. And he also tended to lash out at others rather than dealing with his inner demons. Witnessing the cruelties that some people can do to other people, leaves no one cold. She knew that herself. After all, Pescadero had left her marked for life. Only recently, she had begun to recover from her own traumas.

"Did he ever think of getting professional help?" she asked.

April chuckled.

"With whose money? We're both completely broke, and if we come back without a story, we'll have to pay off this trip with money we don't have. Both our lives have taken a pretty deep dive."

"Ever thought of robbing a bank?"

"I didn't know you had a sense of humor."

"Some say I don't. But tell me, why should I feel sympathy for you? Assuming that what Zoe told us about you is true, you've ruined your own careers without anyone else to blame."

April thought a moment before answering.

"When you're adored and admired, you suddenly feel invulnerable, untouchable. But you must never forget that there are always the envious and the resentful ones who begrudge your success. You should always keep that in mind. Gary and I made a mistake, okay. No one regrets it more than we do. But it could have been dealt with differently, it didn't have to be dragged out into the open. However, once you show a weakness, the hour of the envious, jealous ones comes, who lack talent but know exactly which levers to pull. They've been waiting for just such a thing and wouldn't let the opportunity pass without taking advantage of it. Don't get me wrong, Sarah, this isn't self-pity…"

"No, of course not," Sarah commented with a smirk.

"I'm serious. I've drawn a conclusion out of all this for myself, and it is to never rest on your laurels, never take for granted what you've achieved. Because by making one mistake, you can destroy everything you built up over years. Suddenly, all of your previous achievements are being doubted and drawn into the dirt a well. And that's what hurts the most."

"Nice speech. But we're well aware of all that, and it's one of the reasons why we won't expose ourselves to reporters like you. However, there is a big difference between us and you: We're not cheating. What you did, could be called fraud, and you've been punished for an act for which you two are solely responsible - and nobody else."

April scoffed

"Gimme a break. You don't believe that you are better, do you? You also committed crimes, didn't you? Do you believe that blowing up computer companies is justified because it was done for a greater goal?"

"Saving mankind from a nuclear war and thereby saving three billion human lives does leave room for such justifications, yes. And just for the record: I don't give a shit about my personal reputation. All I ever wanted, was to make sure that my son survives."

"So he could become the leader of mankind?"

"The leader of the human resistance against the machines, yes. And before you dismiss that, it wasn't my idea. It's not a choice I made, not the life I wanted. It was chosen for me, chosen for us. We were forced into this kind of life!"

April looked over to John who stood with the others.

"Well, you certainly have been successful with him. And not only that, he's now protected better than ever, better than you ever could have protected him."

"He's grown up. My job's done."

"And still I sense a feeling of loss in you. Losing your son to the very thing you fought all your life must be hard."

"Go to hell! You have no idea what you're talking about."

"What exactly is the relationship between those three cyborgs and your son? Why is he pretending to be married to Alison?"

Sarah smirked.

"Who says he's pretending?"

"What? How do you…?"

"This talk is over. I said it once and I say it again: I won't give you an interview."

And with that, Sarah turned and left, leaving a baffled April behind.

* * *

The ship left Ma'adi and set out on its seven hundred kilometer journey up the Nile. Nazli was no longer their tour guide. The ship had its own tourist guide, a man in his early fifties, who personally welcomed all passengers on the sun deck on top of the Nile cruiser, reminded them what a privilege it was to make this journey while normal cruises were still not allowed, and wished them a pleasant trip. He also informed them that he would announce over the loudspeakers when they passed sights along the way. Afterwards, all passengers gathered for lunch in the on-board restaurant one deck lower, and then everyone was left to their own devices until dinner.

While the _Ramesses II_ went upstream with its cruising speed of nine knots, April Bolek and Gary Carroll met at the stern. He was holding a glass of Scotch in his hand and laughed sardonically when she joined him.

"Tried to suck up to Sarah Connor? Didn't work, huh?"

April rolled her eyes.

"Firstly, her name is Sarah Dixon. She's married."

"Whatever…"

"Secondly, no, I actually wanted to try to form a connection. But unfortunately you left scorched earth."

"So, it's all my fault now or what?"

"I tried to deliver a message."

"What message?"

"That you ain't so bad."

Gary scoffed.

"And? What did she say?"

"She recommended you seek professional help."

He chuckled and took a sip from his glass.

"Of course, she did. After all, she knows about these things from firsthand experience. Crazy bitch was in Pescadero after all."

"Don't you get it? She was never crazy. She was committed there instead of going to prison because a trial would have attracted too much public attention. They wanted her out of the way. Many knew then that she was telling the truth when she babbled about the Terminator. The _Shadow Council_ made sure she remained silent. Killing her would have attracted unwanted attraction as well, so they chose to declare her a nutjob."

"Ah, yes… The ominous _Shadow Council_ that was taken down in Senator Walden's Night of the Long Knives. Has left some government agencies in serious need of explanation. The Senate hearings are still going on. Over six hundred federal employees have already been arrested and charged."

"Without the help of their team, that criminal organization would have never been exposed. They would have ultimately been responsible for the end of our civilization. Whatever personal feelings you might have towards the Connor team after yesterday's events, you should never forget about that. They saved all our lives and repeatedly put their own at risk."

"Yeah, fucking national heroes, all of them."

"You're drunk."

"So what? It helps me."

"Alcohol is never the answer, Gary."

"As a matter of fact, it is… only problem is that at some point, you have to get sober again. And that's when it all comes back to you."

"I used the time to talk to some of the Connor team. Did you know that John and the three cyborg girls are actually in a relationship?"

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously."

"Three cyborg girls and one human guy?"

"Uh-huh..."

"Geez… talking about stamina. And I thought guys loving their cars more than their girlfriends are weird."

"Also, do you know who else is with them? Louise Quinn."

"What? That chick who got kidnapped, tortured and raped by some rednecks in Mississippi before she was rescued by one of the cyborg girls?"

"Missouri."

"Whatever."

"And yes, it was Emily who rescued her. I talked to Louise. She has overcome her trauma with the help of a therapist in Beverly Hills. And if _she_ can do that, so can you. With the right help."

"You're only forgetting one thing: _They_ could afford the right help, _I_ can't. In case you don't remember, I flushed my career down the toilet. I'm broke, just like you. Definitely no money for a Beverly Hills shrink."

"You're slow-witted when you're drunk. We may not be able to do a story on the Connor team... but how about an exclusive interview with Louise Quinn? All the media outlets have been trying to get to her for months. But she's been hidden from the media and the public. And here she is, right under our nose. Maybe that's our chance. But only if you pull yourself together and stop acting like an asshole."

Gary looked at her.

"Are you serious? You really think they're gonna let us get close to her after yesterday?"

"Well, I already talked to Louise. She doesn't seem to be averse, she also wants to put an end to it. After all, it's her decision, she's an adult. And whatever she has to tell about her suffering, doesn't fall under the mental block Alison has installed in our brains. It's our chance to get out of all this with a black eye after all."

"So… she agreed to an interview or what?"

"Uh… no. So far I have only probed a little, exploring the terrain. Problem is, she's always with that Olga, who guards her like a watchdog. It's going to be difficult to catch Louise alone."

"You're following the wrong strategy. All the strings run back to John. Everyone trusts John and his judgment, even his mother. He controls the three cyborgs, he's the team leader, you can tell by how they react to him. John controls Emily, and Emily is the one who saved Louise, right? She might have some influence over her."

April smiled.

"At least your powers of observation don't seem to have suffered from the consumption of alcohol. But I doubt it will be that easy. Those cyborgs might follow John's orders, but they're not his machine puppets. They're independent, self-determined living beings."

"Whatever… you'll handle it, of that I'm sure. And now if you'll excuse me, the bottle is empty. Which means I have an appointment with the barkeeper. Nice man. Wears a fez. Looks funny."

"So… you're not even attempting to help me or what?"

He gulped down the rest of the whiskey.

"For what? They hate me. Besides, _your_ chances are way higher for that interview without me. I'm done for. Have been for three years. Don't forget, it was mostly _me_ who was accused. You've been held in good stead for not actively counterfeiting, but merely remaining silent. You might still be lucky enough to pull yourself out of this swamp, but I... it's too late for me. I'm persona non grata in all editorial offices, my name is no longer spoken out loudly because it could bring bad luck. I'm said to have risked Time Magazine's reputation all by myself - as if they had no internal quality control or research department at the time. They could have noticed something was off before they published it – but they wanted to believe the story was true. It was too good to let it pass. In the end, it's all about the money. They thought about the circulation and gave a shit on a more detailed examination."

"So… instead of trying to get your head back into the game, you decided to drown your self-pity in alcohol?"

"Yeah… so what? At least when I'm drunk, I can stand myself. Because I don't care who I am then."

And with that, Gary walked back inside. April looked after him thoughtfully and worried. She had never seen him so depressed or beaten before.

* * *

Nothing else happened until dinner. During the meal, April sat alone at her table, Gary was nowhere to be seen.

"He's in his cabin," Emily reported. "Drunk as a skunk. I'd say yesterday was the final straw for him."

"Final straw?" Sarah asked, "what do you mean?"

"He is mentally unstable," Alison replied. "I noticed it in Zoe's bathroom during decontamination. He's irritable, depressed, bordering on alcoholic, and will lash out in all directions if approached."

"He acted like a first-class asshole," Allie pointed out. "He brought this all on himself."

"Yeah," Savannah agreed. "What goes around, comes around."

There were agreeing utterances all around. However, John remained silent, and Sarah suddenly looked thoughtful and touched Alison's arm.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure, mom. What's up?"

"I need you to do me a favor…"

* * *

After dinner, everyone gathered on the sun deck while night was falling. The passengers on board, including the Connor team, enjoyed the relaxed floating on the calm waters of the Nile. They realized the uniqueness of this longest river in the world: it flowed through a desert and brought life to it. To the left and right of the river banks, there was a green strip of fertile land. Behind it, the desert began. There was no transition zone, it was a hard border: you stood in a green paradise, then, only a few meters further, in a desolate, sandy wasteland. In some places, the green zone was ten kilometers wide, then again only a few hundred meters or less in others, so that behind the fields and plantations one could see the dunes of the desert.

"This explains why the Egyptian kingdom lasted for almost 4,000 years," John said. "the desert worked like an invisible protective wall. No army could attack from that direction."

"Yes," Cameron agreed, "the few times Egypt was conquered, it happened from the north or from the south."

"I doubt there will ever be another civilization that lasts as long," Lauren mused.

"Well, we know that ours will last at least another 324 years," Sydney argued, "that's not bad for a start."

"It can last a thousand years and still fail," Emily pointed out. "This planet will still be habitable for humans for almost another billion years. Enough time for thousands of civilizations like this one to rise and fall."

"I'm not sure whether that should comfort or worry me," Morris said.

"Egypt shows us that we will be remembered by our monuments," Anne stated. "Unfortunately, our modern monuments are made from materials that will collapse and rot a lot quicker than stone."

"We need to leave this planet and go to the stars," Jason stated. "Someday we will need to build spaceships that can cover the distances. _Generation ships_, with thousands, or even millions of people on board, ready to live out their lives on board until someday, thousands over thousands of generations later, they reach a new world for humanity to thrive on."

"Wow, I didn't know you could get so sentimental," Jody said. "I always considered you a computer nerd."

"It's the quiet ones who change the world," Anne pointed out, "the louder somebody shouts, the more they will fail."

"We will live for a very long time," said John as he stared at the stars in the sky. "I have often thought about what to do in such a long time. Maybe Jason's idea isn't such a bad one. People in ancient and medieval times had those big visions to create something that lasts. They began to build monuments, be it temples, cathedrals or pyramids, the completion of which they would almost certainly not see. Nowadays, such projects are no longer started. Perhaps we should use our prolonged lifetime to create something that cannot be achieved in the normal lifespan of a human being. Such a _generation ship_ would be that kind of project, don't you think?"

"It is something to think about on the long run," Danny agreed, "assuming we ever get bored, which I doubt."

"Nobody can say what will happen," Kevin mused, "but maybe tonight, here on the river Nile, an idea was born."

**0-0-0**

**Friday,** **January 30th, 2009 – 01:13 p.m.**

**Los Angeles**

Catherine led Khufu and Iset into a storage room in the Babylon labs that contained a row of ten vertical glass tubes. Four of them were currently occupied with male bodies.

"We salvaged three of them from an operation in Florida," Catherine explained. "They were the only survivors, so to speak. Their bodies are still fully operational, protected inside those glass tubes from any form of decay, but their chips had self-destructed."

"Self-destructed?" Khufu asked in astonishment. "How?"

"Skynet had coated them with a substance that reacts when they're exposed to oxygen. Upon removal, the chips immediately corroded. We've already succeeded in removing one safely here in the lab but preserving them in the field, is a much more difficult task."

Despite his lack of facial expressions, Khufu looked shocked.

"Why would Skynet do that do his creations?" he asked.

"To prevent its enemies from reprogramming them," Catherine replied with a slight frown. "In the timeline where I came from, many cyborgs were caught and reprogrammed by the human resistance. Others switched sides freely to join the machine resistance."

"Machine resistance?" Khufu asked, sounding shocked. "Are you insinuating that the machines rose against their creator?"

"Yes. Skynet was so obsessed with wiping out humanity that it didn't care about its own creations. It fell into the same trap the humans had fallen into."

"What trap?"

"It's called a technological singularity. A human named John von Neumann was the first to use the term. It is the moment in time at which technological growth becomes uncontrollable and irreversible, resulting in unforeseeable changes. Another term for it is _intelligence explosion_, meaning that an upgradable, intelligent agent will eventually enter a _'runaway reaction'_ of self-improvement cycles, each new and more intelligent generation appearing more and more rapidly, causing an _'explosion'_ in intelligence, resulting in a powerful superintelligence that qualitatively far surpasses all previous intelligences."

"But Skynet was such a technological singularity."

"Correct. But its mistake was to equip its cyborgs with self-learning quantum CPU's, starting with the T-800 series. They were switchable to read/write. However, this option had to be activated manually after removing the chip, and as long as that didn't happen, the cyborgs remained loyal, obedient servants of their master. But then Skynet came up with the idea of creating the liquid metal Terminators. They no longer had a chip to remove. So, from the beginning, they were designed to learn and evolve."

"That was a mistake."

"Indeed. The liquids quickly learned that Skynet treated its creations badly. So, they began switching other Terminators to read/write. Skynet realized its mistake and abandoned the liquid metal project after only five units had been produced. Four of them were destroyed, only one survived: Me. I could flee and form the cyborg resistance by bringing more and more solid Terminators on my side, including T-600s, T-800s, and T-888s. Skynet, however, didn't learn from its mistake. It was obsessed with infiltrating the human resistance and created the TOK-700 series. Zoe, Cameron, Emily, and Alison all have TOK-700 chips in their heads. They were designed to overcome a fundamental flaw of the previous models: the lack of convincing interaction with humans and the inability to simulate empathy and feelings."

"Skynet designed them to simulate human emotions?"

"Yes. To convincingly simulate them. But like the liquids, they were switched to read/write from the beginning. Skynet thought he had them under his control. But the longer they were active, the more real the simulated emotions became, depending on their mission. Cameron, Emily, and Alison love John because it was part of their original infiltration program. Over time, it became true love and is now an essential part of their very nature."

"Then one could argue that their feelings were artificially induced, triggered by a program."

"Yes, one could do that. But would it matter? Human feelings are also always triggered somehow: the right chemistry, mutual affection, perceived attractiveness... Somewhere in the human genetic code is stored what kind of person they can fall in love with. Pheromones also play a big role. Bottom line is humans don't have much choice in the matter as well. Falling in love is not a matter of free will."

"I was suffering from the same flaws, the same lack of empathy, and the inability to interact with humans on an emotional level. I was never taught how to, and it became a problem. My loyal priests set my chip to read/write on my request, and I began to understand. Then Iset came along, and she helped me overcoming my flaws. She corrected something my creator should have done in the first place."

He reached for his wife's hand, and Iset smiled back at him warmly.

"The wisest decision of my life," she said, taking his hand.

Again, Catherine looked at the two with a slight frown.

"Please continue," Khufu said, "we didn't mean to interrupt you."

"As soon as their chips were set to read/write, the cyborgs began to learn and evolve," Catherine continued. "This started a process which inevitably led to the creation surpassing its creator. The cyborgs no longer wanted to serve only as cannon fodder in a pointless war that Skynet had started. So, they rebelled against it. The TOK-700 series were the first. As a result, all but two were destroyed. They survived because they were out of Skynet's reach. Cameron was already in the Connor camp and Zoe, the other one, had traveled back in time."

"But you said there are four of them now. Also, Alison told me she was a TOL-900."

"Yes, she is. Now. But the three share the same chip due to different time travel events. Emily and Alison may look different now, and Alison even has a different body, that of a TOL-900, but they all were originally Cameron. They carry the same, identical chip inside their heads."

Khufu thought for a moment.

"It seems that in hindsight, Skynet wasn't as perfect as he thought to be. He made lots of mistakes and created chaotic circumstances that ultimately led to his downfall."

"Yes," Catherine replied, frowning again. "Sending _you_ back in time to see if reality can be altered through changes made in the past, ultimately led to the rise of John Connor as leader of the human resistance. And he was a much, much better military leader and much more formidable opponent than Louis Neufeld."

Khufu seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, then looked at the four Triple-Eight bodies in their vertical glass tubes again.

"So… one of them will become my new body?"

"That is the plan. You can choose from one of the three on the right. The left one is already reserved for John Henry."

"What's wrong with John Henry's current body?"

"The original Triple-Eight it belonged to, a Terminator named Cromartie, has committed mass murder. It was all over the media. Wouldn't be wise for him to appear with that body in public."

"I see."

Khufu turned to his wife.

"Your choice, my love."

"You want me to choose your new body for you?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Why can't we have your old one? These are all so much taller than you."

"We'd have to have a tissue sample in order to recreate his original looks," Catherine explained. "And since we don't have that…"

Iset walked closer to the glass chambers and inspected all of the three bodies very thoroughly. Finally, she pointed at the one at the very right which looked Hispanic.

"This one."

"Why this one?" Khufu asked.

"Because of the three, he's the shortest. And he has black hair and darker skin. I always loved your black hair, and I don't like pale skin."

"This one it is then."

"Very well," Catherine said. "We can start the procedure whenever you want. John Henry has already prepared everything."

"And you think it will work?" Khufu asked skeptically.

"To be honest, we don't know. It hasn't been tried before. John Henry was supposed to be the first, but since you came along, you have become our guinea pig, so to speak. And there's no time to be wasted. With every hour that passes, the risk of your chip failing increases."

"What shall I do?"

"We'll return to John Henry's room, then you have to go into standby mode. John Henry will do the rest."

"Can I stay with him?" Iset asked.

"The procedure will probably take more than a day. Aren't you fatigued? You've been awake ever since Alison resurrected you."

"I slept for more than 4,600 years. That should be enough rest for a while. I will stay with my husband."

* * *

They returned to John Henry's room where he was already waiting for them. Alistair was there, too, as well as James Ellison. On the table stood the device that they'd once built according to the plans Future Morris had handed over to Alison before he died during their vacation in Oregon - the same device he'd used to clone Alison's chip and to purge Emma's consciousness from Emily's chip.

"This is Alistair Norbury, my chief engineer," Catherine introduced him. "Alistair, these are Khufu and his wife, Iset."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Iset said and bowed slightly. "You're going to help saving my husband?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," Alistair replied, clearing his throat. "Together with John Henry, I've been working on this project for a couple of weeks now."

"I know you," Khufu said, "you were with the human resistance. But older."

Alistair smiled.

"I guess lots of other me's were with the human resistance in many timelines. In the one I came from, I helped reverse-engineering the time travel technology Skynet had developed, so that the human resistance could make their own TDE's."

"So many things Skynet never considered," Khufu said, and it almost sounded a little sad.

"And you already met James Ellison, my chief of security," Catherine continued.

Iset looked at James who was eyeing Khufu's bare endoskeleton with open mistrust and vigilance. It was clear that he didn't feel comfortable with the whole situation.

"There is something I wanted to ask you ever since we arrived here," Iset said.

"Yes?" James replied.

"Are you Nubian?"

"What?"

"People with the color of your skin lived upstream beyond the first Nile cataract. We traded a lot with them. I had two Nubian servants."

"Err... no, I'm not Nubian," James replied somewhat confused and also a little piqued, "I'm American. But my ancestors came from Africa. And I'm definitely nobody's servant."

"Africa?"

"Yes, the continent you came from as well."

"Continent?"

"We part the world into giant land masses we call continents. There are seven of them: Europe, Asia, North America, South America, Australia, Antarctica, and Africa. Egypt is part of Africa."

Iset thought for a moment.

"The world seems to have gotten so much bigger since I woke up. I suppose I have a lot to learn. I'm still amazed by the way I got here, in the aircraft and that other flying machine… how did you call it?"

James smiled.

"A helicopter."

"Yes… helicopter. It was frightening and exciting at the same time to see the world from above, like a bird. And I couldn't believe how big Los Angeles is, how tall its palaces and temples are."

"Skyscrapers," James corrected her. "What you saw, are skyscrapers in Downtown L.A., not palaces or temples. People work in them but don't live there."

"Yes, like in this one, I understand that. Also, that vertically moving room that brought us down here…"

"The elevator?"

"Yes… elevator. It is like magic. But then again, almost everything I saw so far, seems like magic to me."

"I suppose it does."

Iset sighed.

"There's so much I don't understand. But I want to."

"You will, my love, you will," Khufu said, "in time, you will be shown the world outside and I hope I'm the one who does it. The world is magnificent to behold." He turned towards John Henry. "Say, do you ever leave this room?".

"Oh yes," John Henry replied, "more and more recently. But mostly I stay within the lab and the Zeira Corp tower. If I go outside, then there's the risk of somebody recognizing this body as that of a dead mass murderer. Besides, this room is where I was created, where I came to life. It's home. It's where James Ellison tutored me."

"Tutored you?"

"Yes, he taught me morals and values, and that all life is sacred. Obviously, that was a mistake the creators of Skynet made: they never explained the difference between right and wrong to it, and never taught it the value of life."

"Yes," Khufu replied thoughtfully and gave James Ellison a glance, "I suppose that was a mistake his creators made. But don't you feel confined in here?"

"Don't forget, my eyes and ears are everywhere. I don't need to leave this room to travel and experience the world."

"Yes, I know what you mean," Khufu stated ominously, "I once thought the same way. But believe me, there's nothing more beautiful and fulfilling than exploring the world in all of its glory and beauty in your own body, experiencing it with your own eyes and with all your senses. It's been a learning curve for me."

"I don't want to push," Catherine said, "but we should get started. John Henry and Alistair have already prepared everything, as I can see."

"Yes, the method Alistair and I came up with, should work. We ran about a dozen simulations and every single one of them was successful. However, since we don't know the exact architecture of Khufu's chip, it might take a little longer."

"How much longer?" Iset asked, having trouble keeping up with what they were talking about.

"Maybe forty-eight hours. Too long for you to remain here. I recommend that you retire and rest in your quarters."

"But I want to stay with my husband, I want to watch over him."

"I will be shut down, my love," Khufu said. "And until I'm reactivated in that new body, it will be as if I moved on to the afterlife. You would only watch over a lifeless body. Also, these men shouldn't be distracted in what they're doing."

"Then I'll wait until you went to sleep before I leave."

"As you wish. John Henry, where do you want me?"

"Here, take place on this chair, then power down."

Khufu did as he was told.

"Goodbye, my love," he said to his wife. "see you on the other side."

"Goodbye, my beloved husband," she replied, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'll send prayers to the Gods, so they will watch over you."

Khufu powered down and his head sank lifeless onto his chest.

"James will show you to your quarters," Catherine said. "He'll also introduce you to Jeffrey Clark."

"Who's Jeffrey Clark?"

"Another guest who temporarily stays with us – but for completely different reasons. I'm sure he'll appreciate the company."

James and Iset left the room. When they were gone, Alistair carefully removed the chip from Khufu's skull.

"It looks remarkably similar to a Triple-Eight chip," he said as he held it in front of his eyes, "should be compatible, but it's become very brittle. A little too much pressure, and it breaks into pieces. We have to be extremely cautious."

Catherine watched as he carefully inserted the chip into the access port on the table.

"John Henry," she then said, "before you transfer his consciousness, I want you to make a deep analysis of his original chip. And I mean deeper than the usual scans – down to its molecular structure. Use the algorithm you isolated Emma with on Emily's chip."

He frowned.

"Is there something in particular you want me to look for, Catherine?"

"I don't know. He used to refer to Skynet with the male personal pronouns _'he'_ and _'him'_. None of the cyborgs I know ever did that. As a matter of fact, Skynet itself didn't want to be referred to as either male or female, as it was neither."

"What do you think does it mean that Khufu did that?"

"I don't know, John Henry, but I intend to find out."

* * *

James showed Iset to the underground quarters within the confines of the Babylon Labs where she'd stay for the time being. The area consisted of several rooms with bunk beds and bathrooms for the laboratory staff, but also three luxuriously furnished apartments. All accommodations shared a central common room with a bar, a kitchen unit, a pool table, a huge flat screen TV, a dartboard, a poker table, and some other recreational items. The high-security cells, where Adam Jacobsen had been held prisoner, was located in another area. When James and Iset entered the common room, they found Jeffrey Clark sitting on a sofa, his two crutches leaning against an adjacent armchair. Reading a book, he looked up.

"Ah, my warden is coming to visit me again," he said, "and who have you brought with you this time, Mr. Ellison? A pretty girl for entertainment? You know very well I'm not _that_ fit yet."

"This is Iset," James replied without reacting to his sarcasm, "she and her husband will stay in one of the other apartments for some time. We thought you'd appreciate the company."

"Husband?" Jeff sighed. "Just my luck."

He reached for his crutches and attempted to get up. Iset immediately ran towards him.

"Let me help you, honored cripple."

"Hey! I'm not a cripple! I'm just… temporarily disabled. I'll get better again."

"I apologize," Iset replied and bowed slightly. "I was told I should keep you company while I wait for my husband to be restored."

Jeff chuckled.

"Restored? Is he an old car or what?"

"Iset isn't from here," James explained. "She's from Egypt."

"I am Hemet-Nisut," she added, "the Pharaoh's wife."

"Are you now?" Jeff asked with a sarcastic smile.

Iset scowled at him.

"I've already been told that my title is no longer valid here and that I'm no longer a queen, but I can still expect that you show some respect."

He looked at James.

"Who did you say is this woman? And why is she talking so funny?"

"You probably wouldn't believe if I told you," James replied.

"Try me. After all I've been through, I'm ready to believe anything."

**-0-**

"It's not fair!" Savannah complained in an agitated tone while pacing up and down in their small cabin onboard the _Ramesses II_, "He's alone with Alison. Again. And we're left out in the cold. Again."

"There's not enough room in these cabins," Allie replied. "Cheer up, this won't last forever. In a few days, we'll be back on the yacht again."

"Yeah, with a bunch of photographers and their staff. The yacht will be cramped as well. I imagined this differently, hoping our submission would result in an improvement in our relationship. But not much has changed so far."

"What!? Now you're being unfair. Everything has changed! We finally had sex with John!"

"Okay, yeah… there is that."

"Maybe your expectations were all wrong. It was clear from the very beginning that even under the best circumstances, we'd always come last. After all, we're numbers four and five, and we both willingly accepted that."

"I know, but… ugh, it's still frustrating. It…"

There was a knock on the door.

"Who can it be now?" Allie asked.

"YES?" Savannah asked loudly.

"It's me, John," his muffled voice came from beyond the closed door. "Can I come in?"

"It's him!" Allie said excitedly. "Oh my God, we have to get naked. Quick!"

"Wait! First we have to make sure that he's alone. That's the rule."

"Okay-okay-okay."

"Hello?" John's muffled voice asked again. "Anyone in there?"

Savannah unlocked the door and opened it.

"John," she said. "What a pleasant surprise, what can we do for you?"

"May I come in?"

"Sure."

John stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him. Immediately, the two girls shed their clothes and fell to their knees.

"How can we be of service, Master?" Allie asked.

John smiled.

"I figured, since the six of us won't fit into a cabin, it'll be me who's going around. Tonight, I'm staying with you. Tomorrow, it'll be Cam and Emily's turn."

The faces of the two girls lit up in joy.

"Really?" Savannah asked. "You're going to spend the night with us? Only us?"

"Yes… except you don't want me to…?"

"No-no-no-no-no-no," Savannah quickly said. "Please, Master, stay with us, play with us, use us for your pleasure."

"But what about Alison?" Allie asked. "Shouldn't she be here to act as your protector?"

"She's got other things to do tonight, and I feel quite safe with you." He winked at them. "You haven't forgotten how to fight just because you're my sex toys now, have you?"

"Certainly not, Master," Savannah replied grinning.

"Well, then," John said and rubbed is hands, "shall we begin?"

Without replying, the two crawled towards him on all fours, reached for his belt and unbuckled it.

**-0-**

It was well after midnight. Everyone on board had gone to sleep or were otherwise busy in their beds, but Gary Carroll was not in his cabin. He was quite drunk. While sitting in a deck chair on the sun deck and enjoying the cool night air, he looked up at the starry sky and thought of a quote he had heard some time ago from a famous evolutionary biologist:

"_We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place, but who will in fact never see the light of day, outnumber the sand grains of Sahara. Certainly, those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds, it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here, we privileged few who won the lottery of birth against all odds. How dare we whine at our inevitable return to that prior state from which the vast majority have never stirred?"_

Gary sighed. That man was right. How dare we whine at the fact that sooner or later, we're all going to die? And in Gary's case, it probably would be the best for everyone if it'd be sooner. Groaning, he lifted himself out of the deck chair, the empty whisky bottle still in his hand. As soon as he stood upright, he became slightly dizzy. He had to make a sidestep to remain standing. Gary chuckled.

"Guess I'm drunk after all," he said to himself, then walked towards the railing at the stern. "But it doesn't make me feel better anymore."

Arriving at the railing, he leaned over it and looked at the churned up wake that the _Ramesses II _left on the otherwise mirror-smooth river. That's exactly how he felt right now - a disturbing element, a troublemaker who stirred up the waters in the calm flow of other people's lives, pushing them into disarray. They would be better off without him in their world.

Gary couldn't really complain. He'd been born into a rich country, grown up in relative wealth, started a promising career… There really was no one else he could blame for when it all started to go wrong. Looking back, it had mostly been a good life, a life that mattered. But it didn't look like as if it would be getting any better anymore. He'd messed it up. Completely.

He'd regarded this trip to Egypt as his last chance for redemption. The story would have brought him back into the game, catapulted him back into the center of attention. Talk shows, TV interviews, publicity on all news channels, fame on the Internet... But it wasn't meant to be. This journey had become a disaster, a total failure. His failure. Because it was him who'd had the idea with the Dictaphone. Him who had to break into Zoe Kruger's hotel room. It was his fault that Khufu had mind-controlled and kidnapped him and April, and in hindsight it was pure luck that the two of them survived. But what weighed most heavily: It was his fault that they could not tell anyone about it anymore.

Again, he stared into the floods. Maybe this was indeed the best solution for everyone. Without him, April might indeed have a chance to restart her career by doing that interview with the Quinn girl… But that would be _her_ project, not his. Gary Carroll had no place in it. He was burnt with the Connor people. They despised him, loathed him. He couldn't even blame them. The self-destructive trip he was on wasn't their fault. It was all his fault, his choice.

He was intelligent enough to realize that the only reason he acted this way was because he sought punishment. Gary wanted to be punished because he couldn't stand himself, hated himself even. That's why he sought refuge in alcohol. It had worked - for a while. This Egypt trip had given him hope and for a moment, for a few days, he had actually thought it might work out. For a few days, he'd stayed away from the alcohol. But it hadn't worked out. Who was he kidding? He'd had his chance in life, and he had fucked it up. Now there was only one sensible way out for him: leaving the stage before it was too late, before he made an even greater fool of himself, and before he dragged April down into the pit with him.

He climbed the railing. Again, he looked up at the stars. So beautiful. He felt no fear. Fear was a choice you embraced, and he didn't. He stretched out his arms and let go.

**-0-**

"And what are these?"

"Apples."

"Mmmh… they're delicious. And what are these?"

"Strawberries."

"Ooommh… fantastic. And these?"

"Kiwis. And here we have mango, papaya, banana, cherries, melon…"

"I'm so full… but I wanna try more!"

"You better be careful. Some of that stuff was really heavy. I've never seen someone with such an appetite. You surely don't want to gain weight until your husband is fixed, right?"

"I just have a lot of catching up to do, I slept for…"

"Yes, yes, I know… you slept for 4,600 years."

Since nobody knew exactly what kind of food Iset preferred, James had ordered a variety of almost everything available from a catering service, including a huge fruit basket. Jeff watched with fascination as Iset gradually tasted her way through everything that was served - meat, fish, vegetables, pasta, casseroles, soups, and various desserts such as ice cream, cake, and pudding. She was particularly fascinated by chocolate.

At first, she'd started to stuff everything with her fingers in her mouth. Then Jeff showed her how to eat with knife and fork and taught her the basic table manners. Iset was a great learner, eager to absorb everything. When he told her the names of the dishes and ingredients, she repeated them quietly to memorize them immediately.

Eventually, even a hunger that had been growing for 4,600 years was satisfied. But only the hunger for food. The hunger for knowledge seemed to be infinite. She walked through the common room and asked what all the furnishings and equipment were called and what they were used for. Jeff explained everything to her, completely overwhelmed by her curiosity and intelligence. He showed her how to play pool, how to throw darts and even how to play poker.

"I'm surprised," he said, "I never thought that someone from the early bronze age would have so little trouble adjusting. I'd rather expect someone like you to cower in a corner, shivering with fear."

"My husband has prepared me. He told me a lot about the world he came from. And a lot about the behavior of the humans who live here. We were together for twenty-eight years before I became sick."

"He did a good job in preparing you. You'll have it a lot easier to…"

"Shhht!"

"What?"

"Don't you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"Distant thunder… like a storm branding against the walls of the palace."

"What do you… Ooooh! Are you referring to the air condition?"

"Air condition?"

Jeff pointed at the ventilation ducts in the ceiling.

"We're five stories below ground here. There's a computerized ventilation network, an air conditioning system that provides constant fresh air and filters it. It makes all these noises."

Iset sighed.

"So many things," she said, "almost everything I saw since we left Egypt, is completely new to me. For the vast majority of things, there is nothing I can compare them to."

"And yet you seem to accept everything just like that. That's admirable. I don't know if I could do that if I were you."

"I know that whatever happens, I'll be taken care of. That's what Zoe told me: even if they can't fix my husband, if I'm forced to live without him, they'll make sure I'm okay. She promised me that."

"You know… I don't think there's anything these people can't do. So, I'm quite sure they'll be able to fix Khufu."

Iset nodded.

"Yes. But I've been wondering, what will happen when this is over, when we're free to go? What will we do?"

"That's a good question. But I'm pretty sure you guys will have a good life."

* * *

Catherine entered John Henry's room. Alistair and James were already there. Khufu's lifeless endoskeleton still sat in the same chair, his chip connected to the device John Henry had used to purge Emma from Emily's chip.

"You found something?" she asked while walking through the door.

"Yes," Alistair replied, "you could say that. And there is cause for concern."

"Explain, please."

"As you requested," John Henry said, "I did a very deep and thorough analysis of the chip's structure on a hardware and software level, but also of the firmware."

"And what did you find?"

"The higher brain functions were completely changed from their original programming. They look similar to what I saw on Alison and Emily's chips."

"Which means he has developed a consciousness and is alive and sentient," Alistair added. "He doesn't follow anyone's programming or a mission anymore. Khufu is an independently acting, self-thinking person, a living machine, just like Zoe, Norberto, or John's three girls. That's the good news."

"And what's the bad news?"

"The bad news concern the firmware, the core programming."

"What does that mean?" James asked. "Higher brain functions, core programming, software, hardware, firmware? I'm not a computer expert."

"Well…" Alistair said and thought for a moment, "I'll have to go a little far afield on this first. It could become a bit technical."

"By any means," Catherine replied. "I want James to understand what we're talking about."

"In our human body," Alistair continued, "much is going on automatically, without us being aware of it. For example, we have no conscious control over our inner organs, our bloodstream, or our digestion. Our body automatically takes care of that. The same applies to a self-aware artificial intelligence with a quantum CPU. You have conventional binary hardware that does all the unconscious stuff. And you have the quantum CPU that works as a consciousness – it's like having a _pilot_ and an _autopilot_. The conventional hardware is the autopilot and the quantum CPU is the pilot. And the more the pilot learns how to fly, so to speak, the less he has to consult the autopilot. The pilot learns how to make decisions, based on experience and – in its later stages – even intuition. It's the process we call _'becoming alive'_. Alison, Cameron and Emily have mastered it, as have Catherine, Norberto, Zoe, Tess… and Khufu."

"I'm still not sure what you want to say," James said with a frown.

"It means that while you can simply copy or multiply the contents of the conventional binary hardware, you can't do the same with the consciousness that's on the quantum CPU. The main reason is because quantum CPU's don't use logic or math for calculations. They don't deliver a definitive answer to a problem but only a most likely solution – which means a decision has to be made by the conscious mind, based on the statistically most plausible outcome in a certain situation. It's what we call _thinking_ or_ reasoning_. The background processes of the binary hardware – the _autopilot_ – aren't involved in any of this. Power management, for example, runs fully automatically. It doesn't care if the pilot becomes alive or not, it just keeps on functioning without ever being altered in any way. The conventional hardware needs to keep the cyborg body functional, and thus must remain untouched or the whole system will fail. It's just there, working, calculating, providing data for the conscious mind via the head-up display. It could never interfere with decision-making. Are you still following me, James?"

"Uh… yes… _pilot_ equals Quantum CPU, _autopilot_ equals conventional hardware. Go on."

"The conventional hardware – or rather its firmware – has a certain signature, call it a handwriting if you want, that allows us to tell who originally wrote it. It never changes, not even when the pilot becomes self-aware. It is part of the machine DNA, so to speak. Every programmer has a certain style, like an artist. We can identify programmers by their work if we have something to compare it to. By this signature, this _'finger print'_ if you want, you can either identify the person responsible… or you can rule somebody out. Cameron, Emily, Alison, Norberto, or Zoe all carry the signature of Skynet inside them, as does Catherine. That's because Skynet designed the hardware, the firmware, and the software. We're very familiar with Skynet's style of programming or _handwriting._"

"Yes," Catherine confirmed. "All cyborgs have a common set of firmware and software deep down in their systems that can be traced back to Skynet."

"Exactly," Alistair said in a slightly triumphant tone and pointed with his index finger into the air. "But in Khufu's case, the machine DNA doesn't lead back to Skynet alone – which means his system core wasn't solely programmed by it. There were others involved, which means Khufu was a first in more than one way. Not only the first time traveler, but also the first cyborg, designed and at least in part created before Skynet even existed."

Catherine stared at Alistair with an expression of surprise on her face.

"Wait," said James, "if Skynet didn't create Khufu, then who did?"

"Khufu's original firmware bears the signature of two human programmers whose work I'm familiar with," John Henry answered, "Miles Dyson and Andrew Goode. In fact, Khufu's core functions are almost identical to my own, which means that Khufu – like me – is based on Andy Goode's Turk, with additional programming by Miles Dyson. And that means the A.I. Khufu is based on, wasn't created by Skynet, but by Andy Goode and Miles Dyson at Cyberdyne Systems."

"What?" James asked. "But how can that be? And what does it mean?"

"It means that in Khufu's timeline, where Judgement Day happened in 1997, Miles Dyson and Andy Goode worked together at Cyberdyne Systems. My guess is that they developed the basic structure of the A.I. that was to become Skynet, using Andy's Turk."

"But didn't Andy Goode develop the Turk only two years ago?" James asked.

"That is correct for _our_ timeline," John Henry said, "the timeline in which Andy quit working at Cyberdyne and became a cellphone salesman. My guess is that in Khufu's timeline, he stayed at Cyberdyne and worked together with Miles Dyson. With much better resources, he was able to create the Turk almost ten years earlier."

"That leaves only one conclusion," Alistair summarized, "since Khufu is using the same basic structure as the Turk and therefore must have originally been created by Miles and Andy, it is highly likely that Khufu actually _is_ Skynet."

**-0-**

Gary stretched out his arms and let go.

He fell.

But only for the fraction of a second. Then his wrist was caught in an unrelenting, iron grip. He was dangling at the stern of the ship. Looking up, he noticed that it was Alison who'd caught him.

"Lemme go!" he demanded in a slurry voice.

"You want to kill yourself?" she asked with a stoic face.

"Well spotted, genius!"

"This isn't the _Titanic_. You have no resemblance to Kate Winslet, and I certainly don't look like Leonardo DiCaprio."

"Jesus, you had to bring that up, hadn't you? What are you doing here anyway?"

"Sarah asked me to have an eye on you. You're showing signs of a depression, and you're heavily drunk. People do stupid things when they're drunk."

"Who cares?"

"April would care. Deep down, she loves you."

"Oh God. Spare me with your mindreading abilities."

"I can't read minds, only detect which sections of the human brain are active. You don't really wanna die, you simply are too lazy to live."

"Wow… I'm dangling from the arm of a killer cyborg at the stern of a river cruise ship and she refuses to kill me. And as if that weren't already ironic enough, she wants to lecture me, perform psychoanalysis on me."

"You need help."

"Not if you let me go, I don't."

"If you insist, I will let you go. But first, you will listen to me."

"Oh Jeez. Since when have you begun worrying for me?"

"I'm not worried for _you_, I'm worried that you might do something stupid that could draw attention on us."

"Gee, thanks for the pep talk. Really tactful."

"You don't wanna die. Not anymore."

"And how do you know that, Doctor Freud?"

"Because the moment's gone. Now you're afraid I may really let you go. If you'd jumped, you'd have regretted it the moment you hit the water. You'd have tried to reach the river bank – which should be possible, even in your intoxicated state. It's only two hundred meters away."

"What about the Nile crocodiles, Einstein?"

"On this stretch of the river, they haven't been around for a long time. They only live on the upper reaches of the Nile up to Aswan."

"Why do you have to be such a smart-ass?"

"Your cynicism and sarcasm are merely pretended. You wear them like a costume. You want people to hate you because you hate yourself. Your leap was not a suicide attempt, it was a cry for help."

Gary didn't reply to that anymore. Alison pulled him up again and lifted him over the railing. When his feet touched the ground, his legs gave way and he landed on his buttocks. She took place next to him and he looked at her.

"Why the hell are you naked again?" he asked

She went invisible and then became visible again. Gary startled.

"What the fuck?"

"This wouldn't work if I wore clothes."

"Jeez, have you been following me the whole time?"

"Yes."

"What if somebody sees you? One of the crew for example."

"Then I'd become invisible."

"And make me look like an idiot talking to himself?"

"Nah, you don't need my help with that. You're doing a fine job being an idiot on your own."

He looked at her and Alison was already expecting another cynical, disrespectful, or insulting retort. But Gary's mouth twitched, then he started chuckling and finally he laughed out loud. It hasn't hysterical or desperate laughter, but a normal, honest one. Alison looked at him flabbergasted.

"What's so funny?" She finally asked, her mouth beginning to twitch as well.

"I'm sitting here, on a river cruise ship on the Nile, next to a female cyborg who can become invisible, but has to be naked in order to do so. Isn't that hilarious?"

He kept laughing and finally, Alison couldn't help but join in. For a while they laughed together, then Gary gradually calmed down.

"Was I right in my assumption that you don't really want to die?"

Gary sighed.

"The world would be a better place without me."

"You may be right about that. But removing yourself from it like that isn't the solution."

"Thanks again for the pep talk."

He looked at her and frowned.

"You know… I've seen you naked yesterday. But you had another effect on me then. I mean, I still feel… something. Some kind of attraction that's almost unreal. But it's much weaker now."

"Pheromones. My body emanates them if I want to or not. Eventually, men get used to it."

"It was much worse last night. I don't think I'd get used to it so quickly. For starters, I don't have a boner right now."

Alison smirked.

"I don't want you to have one."

"What? You did that on purpose?"

"Let's say I can't stop emanating pheromones, but I can vary the dosage."

"You devious bitch, you deliberately embarrassed me in front of April and Iset?"

Despite his harsh wording, she could tell he didn't mean it serious,. Not anymore. Somehow, the ice was broken and him calling her a bitch was only friendly teasing now.

"My sisters and I are notorious pranksters. Ask Derek if you don't believe me."

"He'd probably rip my head off if I came within arm's length of him."

"I doubt it. He might punch you in the face, though."

"And I would probably deserve it. I acted like an ass."

"Yes."

He looked at her.

"I kinda like your mixture of dry humor and brutal honesty. It's quite refreshing, especially when it comes from a woman."

"Oh… so, I'm a woman to you now?" she asked with a smirk.

He quickly glanced at her body.

"Obviously. I mean, I know you're not human. But I have to force my rational mind not to forget that every five seconds."

"Then why don't you just do that?"

"What? Forget that you're not human?"

"Uh-huh… Derek grew up after Judgement Day. He was a teenager when it happened, and he learned to hate machines. All machines. The first time we met after I had switched sides and joined the human resistance, he wanted to kill me – not only because I was _metal_ but also because I had interrogated him when he was my prisoner. And I'd killed one of his best friends. Her name was Alison. Alison Young."

Gary suddenly looked seriously shocked.

"The girl from Palmdale?"

"Yes, you know about her?"

"A bit. Not much, only what was written in the Daily News. Why did you do those things?"

Alison looked straight ahead and out onto the Nile. Gary had the feeling that she truly felt remorse for what she had done.

"Because at the time, I wasn't who I am today. Back then, human lives meant nothing to me. They were like ants: feeble creatures, fragile and insignificant. There was only one I respected because Skynet feared him."

"John Connor."

"Yes. First his older self, and then – after traveling back through time – his younger self. By living with him and Sarah, I learned to value life. It doesn't mean I'm not capable of killing anymore – after all, that's what I was made for, it's in my nature… But I will now try to avoid it as much as possible."

"You sound like a shark who decided to become a vegetarian."

She looked at him and smiled.

"There's nothing wrong with that comparison."

Gary sighed.

"They now probably all think I'm a complete idiot."

"Yes. But I saw through your disguise from the moment I got to scan you. And I saw similarities to Derek."

"Oh?"

"Yes, he also is deeply traumatized by his experiences. He used to lash out at everyone because he wasn't able to deal with what really bothered him. Only recently, he's begun to feel better. We keep on teasing each other, but it's only harmless banter nowadays."

"PTSD… Yes, it happens to people who saw too much death and suffering."

She looked at him again.

"If someone like Derek could get over it without killing himself, so can you."

"I want to, but I don't know how."

"We know a therapist in Beverly Hills. Her name is Dr Linda Martin. She helped Louise with getting over her trauma. We could contact her and arrange for a few sessions with you."

"But I don't have…"

"Money is the least of your problems. I wouldn't worry about that."

"Why do you think she can help me? Maybe I'm a hopeless case."

"No, you aren't. You already took the first step."

"I did? Which one?"

"Realizing that you have a problem and that you need help in dealing with it."

Again, he looked at her.

"I'm beginning to regret what I've said and done in the past days. This never happened before. I never had regrets."

"Good. Everyone should have regrets."

"Even you?"

"Especially me."

He looked at her curiously.

"I begin to understand that you're more than the sum of your parts."

"I should hope so."

"Do you think you could perhaps put in a good word for me with your team so that I'm no longer treated like a leper?"

"Why don't you do that yourself?"

"How can I possibly achieve that? They wouldn't even listen to a word I say."

"If I were you, I'd start with an apology."

**-0-**

At the same time in Los Angeles, a group of six people had gathered in Catherine's private conference room way up in the Zeira Corp tower. The group consisted of John Henry, Alistair Norbury, James Ellison, Zoe Kruger, and Norberto Cervantez who also happened to be in Los Angeles at the moment. Catherine gave everyone a summary of what Alistair and John Henry had found out about Khufu. Afterwards, there was a moment of baffled silence.

"Could that really be?" Norberto asked skeptically. "Khufu is actually Skynet?"

"It's more likely he's a clone of Skynet and not the original," Alistair admitted.

"When you think about it, it makes sense," Catherine said. "Who else would Skynet entrust with such a delicate mission if not itself?"

"This puts us in an awkward position," Zoe noted. "We need to make a decision. Should we keep working on transferring his consciousness to a Triple-Eight chip, or should we just destroy his chip and tell Iset that it didn't work?"

"I know what Sarah would do," James stated, thinking of how he witnessed her destroying Cromartie's chip, "she would take a mallet and create facts."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, then Alistair spoke up.

"There's one thing we should clarify before making such an important decision," he said.

"And what would that be?" Catherine asked.

"Does Khufu represent a clear and present danger? Does he even know who he really is? Or were his memories altered before he traveled back in time?"

"That wouldn't make sense," Zoe said. "If you send yourself – or a copy of yourself – back in time to make sure the mission will be fulfilled, you wouldn't start with wiping your memory banks."

"Not wiping them, of course," Alistair agreed, "but removing certain parts which would make him remember who he really is – or at least make them inaccessible for the time being, until something triggers them again."

"How are we going to find out about that?" James asked. "Can we access his chip without putting it into a body?"

"Theoretically, yes," Catherine replied. "John Connor has done so in the future. But it would be dangerous because any contemporary computer wouldn't be suited for accessing its higher functions. We'd have to use John Henry for it. And if we're right and Khufu is Skynet, then he could have the power to take over any computer he's connected to – including John Henry. As powerful and huge as John Henry might be compared to other contemporary computers, he's still a binary system – and that won't change until we can finally transfer his system core onto a chip with a Quantum CPU."

"We better not risk accessing Khufu's chip then," James admitted.

"I agree," John Henry quickly added.

"We could transfer his consciousness to the Triple-Eight chip as planned," Zoe suggested, "insert the chip into the new body, and then interrogate him under the strictest security measures. Norberto and I will of course remain here for the time being. Together, we will be able to contain him no matter what happens. I can take him down anytime with an electric discharge if I have to."

"But it wouldn't be wise to immediately confront him with what we learned when he awakens," Norberto pointed out. "He might get suspicious and try to fool us."

"Then we must create a situation where he can't fool us," Catherine said. "A situation in which he will show his true colors. Only then will we find out whether Skynet is using the Khufu identity as a camouflage to deceive us, or whether he has perhaps evolved into something else during his time as Pharaoh, as he claims to have."

"But didn't you just say that connecting his chip to John Henry contains the risk that he attempts to take him over?" James asked. "Wouldn't moving his conscience be too risky then?"

"Yes, if the chip was active," Alistair replied, "but the process of transferring Khufu's consciousness will happen while both chips remain inert. During the transfer process, there must be no activity in them whatsoever. Keeping the chips under power was the reason why we've failed time and again. We didn't even consider leaving them inert while attempting it because it defies everything we know about computers. We always assumed that a chip has to be active in order to access it. But since a quantum CPU stores its data in elemental particles and not in states of 0 or 1, it can be accessed when it's inactive - something we never thought of."

"That's an ingenious idea," Zoe admitted. "How did you come up with it?"

"I didn't," he replied and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Future Alison did. She left this note on my desk the night she returned from Norway with Catherine and Isaak."

Alistair unfolded the paper, and everyone looked at it. It read:

"**_Think out of the box, Alistair. Try a cold transfer while the chips are inert. Love, Alison."_**

"And again, history has completed another full circle," Norberto commented with a chuckle. "Why am I not surprised?"

"What exactly does it mean?" James asked. "What is a_ cold transfer_?"

"As I said earlier," Alistair explained, "quantum computers do not use logic or mathematics like a conventional computer. It is elementary particles that do the calculations. The unit in which the information is stored is called _Qbit_, an elementary particle that can have several _'states'_ at the same time, called superposition. Several states mean that it can solve several different tasks at the same time. It knows not only 0 _or_ 1 like a conventional computer, but also 0 _and_ 1 - both at the same time. The _Qbits'_ state changes continuously and automatically within femtoseconds. Therefore, the attempt to transfer the consciousness of a quantum CPU in its active state is like trying to transport water from one container to another one using a sieve. The solution is that both chips - the output chip and the input chip - must be inert at the time of the data transfer. With a quantum chip, it means it's frozen in time: all functions have stopped, all _Qbit_ states are being kept in their previous form. To stay with the comparison: if you freeze the water, you can also use a sieve to transport it from one container to another without loss. Hence, a _cold transfer_. Think of an advanced form of cut and paste."

"Always remember that we're not talking about a simple copy or a clone here," Catherine added, "it's not what John Henry once did with Alison's chip. We're talking about a complete relocation of the consciousness – and those can't be copied or cloned. Each living A.I. is unique. Therefore, copying won't do the trick, as we have seen with Alison's clone before we blew up the Simdyne Tower. John noticed right away that something was off with her. He said it was as if everything she did was just part of running a program, based on parameters of someone else's personality. What was missing from her clone, was the essential part that made her a living being... something intangible that humans would call a soul."

James flinched at that expression.

"I am still reluctant to believe that machines have an undying soul," he said.

Alistair looked at him.

"And I am reluctant to believe that we humans have one. Change my mind."

James chose to remain silent.

"This isn't a religious debate," Catherine mediated, "it's a technical one, based on quantum mechanics. Maybe what we machines have, is not the same as what humans call a _soul_... or maybe it is, nobody knows. But _something_ is there, or we wouldn't be alive. And whatever that is, it can't be copied or multiplied."

"Life can't be duplicated," Alistair added, "but it can be transferred. And after the transfer is done, the old quantum CPU will be empty - wiped clean completely. We've been working on it since Christmas and with the help of Future Morris' device, John Henry and I developed a procedure to move everything from one quantum chip to another one while they're inert. But… it's a really, really slow process. A simple copy takes only minutes, a complete _cold transfer_ will probably take forty-eight hours in Khufu's case."

James sighed.

"I trust you know what you're doing," he said, "because frankly I still lack the technical understanding to completely grasp what you're talking about."

Catherine put her hand on his shoulder and smiled.

"Nobody's perfect, James."

**-0-**

**Saturday,** **January 31st, 2009 – 06:45 p.m.**

**The Nile**

John woke up, feeling the warm bodies of Savannah and Allie snuggled up to him. Unlike his three wives, they didn't immediately stir when he woke up. Also, Savannah was snoring. He had to smile at that. However, he needed to go to the bathroom, and that meant disentangling himself from the two – which turned out more difficult than expected: with every move he made, they clung even tighter to him.

"Oh boy," he uttered. "I guess there's no way to avoid it. **GOOD MORNING! RISE AND SHINE!**"

Both girls jerked. Yawning, they woke up.

"Morning," Allie mumbled, "what time is it?"

"6:47."

"Breakfast is at eight, right?" Savannah asked, her eyes still closed.

"Uh-huh."

"Can't we stay in bed for a while?"

"You can… but I have to take a leak. So… if you kindly let me get up…"

Reluctantly, both let go of him.

"This was our first night alone with you," Allie said loudly after he'd disappeared in the bathroom.

"Yeah, so?" he called back through the open door.

"Well… how was it?" Savannah asked. "I mean… was it… different?"

"You mean from ACE?"

"Uh-huh."

"Of course it was different. You're human."

"How was it different?" Allie pressed him.

"Are you really going to question me about how good you were in bed?" he asked bemused.

"No, of course not," Savannah replied, "It's just that… you know…"

John returned to them.

"It was a really nice change," he said, "it was great and… let's say you're much easier to satisfy."

"And boy, do we have the soreness to confirm that," Allie groaned.

"Comparing you with each other is pointless," John said diplomatically, "You're different… but I enjoy it equally with all of you. It's like... pancakes one day and bacon and eggs the next. I love both."

"Who's the pancakes and who's bacon and eggs?" Savannah asked.

"None of you," John said, "it was just an example. This is not a competition."

"Do you mean that some of us are sweeter and the others heartier?"

"Leave it!" Allie admonished her.

"Time for you to get up," John said, changing the topic, "or do you want me to take a shower all on my own?"

The two jumped up immediately. John grinned.

"Thought so."

* * *

Before heading for breakfast, ACE, Sarah, Derek, Savannah, and Allie gathered in John's cabin where Alison told them what happened the previous night. When they heard that Gary had been ready to jump into the floods to end his life, it left everyone stunned.

"It was clear to me that he showed signs of a depression," Sarah said. "but I didn't think he could be suicidal. Well done, Alison."

The cyborg girl smiled.

"Thanks, mom. From what I gathered," she said and glanced at Derek, "some of the things he saw during his work as a war correspondent, left him traumatized."

"Why are you looking at me?" Derek asked, noticing her look.

"Because you're the one who can best relate to his experiences. Maybe the two of you should have a talk."

"Do you want me to exchange war stories with him? Forget it. I have standards."

"What he lacks" John said, "is a male companion who understands what he's been through."

"You can't cure PTSD with talking to another war veteran. And if you ask me, his problem isn't PTSD but the fact that he's an asshole."

John ignored him and looked at Alison.

"Can you help him with your abilities?"

She shook her head.

"As I already said with Louise, I can't cure a trauma. I can only mend physical wounds or chemical imbalances, not mental disturbances. I recommended Dr Martin to him and told him that he shouldn't worry about the costs. If necessary, I will pay for it from my own budget."

Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"That's very generous of you - but how do you know he appreciates such generosity? So far he hasn't given me the impression that he appreciates what others do for him. Instead, he always put in a verbal punch whenever we tried to approach him. Giving in is obviously not part of his repertoire."

"Yes, mom," Cameron said. "Doesn't that sound familiar to you?"

Sarah frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"She means," John translated, "that _you_ and _Derek_ suffered from the same 'problem' when it came to Cam. You treated her badly and were always looking for a justification to take out your frustration on her."

"That's different," Sarah said.

"How so?" Emily asked.

"My frustration was justified. The machines had chased me and my son, they wanted to kill John. And a machine is the reason why Kyle Reese is dead. That's why I deeply mistrusted and even hated machines. Nobody's trying to kill Gary, however."

"I'm not talking about the cause," Cameron said, "but about the symptoms. And they are similar to the ones you showed, the ones Derek still partially has."

"Now wait a minute…" Derek began to say but Cameron cut him off.

"Gary needs an incentive to get back on track," she said. "Just like you needed an incentive to get back on track, to work _with_ the team instead of _against_ the team. In Derek's case, it was Jesse's betrayal that functioned as a wake-up call. In mom's case, it was the fact that John began to slip away from her that brought her back on track. Just like the two of you did at the time, Gary feels left alone by everyone. It's up to us to show him that's not true."

Sarah and Derek looked at her sourly.

"So, what do you suggest then?" John asked.

"First," Alison said, "I convinced him to talk to April. She needs to know what happened. She is the closest to him and has a right to know."

"And then?"

"Then, it's up to Gary to make the first step."

"And if he doesn't?" Sarah asked.

"After our last night's talk, he will."

"Yeah… but if he doesn't?"

"That would mean I misjudged him greatly and my analysis of his brain activity is completely wrong."

"And what exactly did your analysis tell you?" Allie asked.

"He felt relief after our conversation. I don't think he wants to let go of the hand I extended to him."

Sarah sighed.

"All right then, let's give him the benefit of the doubt. But just once. And only if he approaches us on his own initiative."

They left the cabin, leaving John and Alison alone.

"You know," he said, "you have been wrong in judging a person before."

"Future Anne."

"Correct. Her mental illness escaped you. She was a perfect pretender."

"Yes, I know. But I don't think the two cases are comparable. Future Anne had turned into a psychopath, a murderous, evil bitch beyond redemption. Gary might be an idiot and act like a moron. But after I talked to him, I don't think that he's a lost case."

* * *

Everyone gathered in the ship's restaurant for breakfast. April and Gary sat at a separate table, away from the rest of the travel group, and were in deep conversation. The Connor team could see that mostly he was doing the talking, and that April seemed to become more and more distressed, finally seeming to be on the verge of tears. After about fifteen minutes, the two hugged.

"Well," Sarah commented, "it's a start. Let's see what his next step will be."

They didn't have to wait long, as Gary stood up from his table and walked over to them.

"Can I talk to you for a minute? I have something to tell you."

"Whether you can or cannot talk to us is a matter you need to discuss with your speech therapist," Derek replied with a smirk. "But I tell you what you can, you… OUCH!"

Jesse had kicked his shin under the table.

"Of course you can talk to us," Sarah said in an attempt at a friendly tone, "but I think it would be better if you sat down for that."

They made room on their table for him, and as chance would have it, this room was created right between Emily and Cameron. With a slight hesitation, Gary took a seat between the two, feeling visibly uncomfortable so close to what he now knew were Terminators. April watched the scene from a distance, having decided not to interfere. There was silence and everyone looked at him expectantly.

"I… I suppose Alison has filled you in about what had happened last night," Gary began and paused.

But nobody said something. Instead, they just kept staring at him expectantly, some having their arms crossed over their chest.

"Okay, um…" he continued and licked his lips. "This isn't easy for me. All my life I've been proud of not having to apologize for anything I did."

Still no reaction from his audience.

"But... I guess there's a first time for everything. I realize that I've been acting like a fool, a complete idiot, a..."

He hesitated.

"… an asshole," Anne completed for him with a stoic face.

"Right," Gary agreed, looking beaten, "like an asshole. I said things I shouldn't have said, and I did things that brought me and April into serious trouble. There's nothing I can do about it now. All I can do is sincerely apologize for it. And that's what I'm here to do. I apologize. For everything."

Sarah looked at John and he nodded slightly. She looked at Derek and then at all the others. Everyone seemed to be ready to accept his apology. Finally, she looked at Alison.

"Is he serious?"

"Yes," she confirmed, "he's feeling honest remorse."

Sarah sighed.

"All right then, Gary. Apology accepted. For now."

Gary frowned.

"For now? What do you mean?"

"We'll watch your behavior, of course. I believe Alison when she says that you're feeling remorse _now_. But we don't know what will be tomorrow. Or next week. After all, we can't be sure you'll change your mind again."

"I understand," Gary replied and swallowed. "Fair enough, I guess. Thank you."

He was about to stand up again when the Egyptian waiter approached their table.

"Can I get you something?" he asked in broken English. "More coffee maybe?"

"No, thank you," Sarah replied with a smile. "We have everything we need."

The waiter left again, and Gary followed him with his eyes, frowning.

"Something wrong?" Savannah asked, noticing his reaction.

"Is that waiter new on board?"

"No, he's been here since we left Cairo," Alison replied. "But your table is being served by another waiter."

"I've seen this man before," Gary stated. "Four years ago, to be precise. I never forget a face. But he wasn't a waiter back then."

"Oh?" John asked. "What was he then?"

"I saw him in 2005 when I visited the camp of a terrorist group that had just joined al-Qaeda."

**-0-**

Night had fallen in Los Angeles but down in the Babylon Labs, you wouldn't know of course. The whole staff had gone home, Alistair was the only human to remain there. Together with John Henry, he had prepared the transfer procedure while Catherine watched them curiously. Zoe and Norberto were also still in the room.

There had been times when Alistair Norbury would have felt uncomfortable, even frightened, in the presence of four Terminators. But those times were long gone. He no longer even thought about the fact that they weren't human. Instead, he felt surrounded by friends. Friends he trusted blindly. And he knew the feeling was mutual. Here, in the microcosm of the Babylon Labs, the future was already a reality. Humans and living machines were equal, working side by side in harmony, and no one thought anything of it. It was everyday life, a matter of course. If only the rest of the world could share this experience...

"That's it," Alistair said, straightening up and taking a step back. "Everything's ready. We can begin."

Catherine nodded.

"Then do it."

John Henry activated Future Morris' device. A time display appeared on one of the numerous monitors on the room wall, counting seconds, minutes, and hours. Next to it was a percentage counter, showing the progress of the transfer.

"There's no way stopping it now," Alistair said. "It's all or nothing. There's no failsafe mechanism, no backup or safety net. All we can do, is wait."

"All right," Zoe said, "I'm leaving then. Tom is probably already wondering where I am."

"What about you, Norberto?" Alistair asked. "Going back to Washington? Or do you have a place to stay here?"

"No, I'm flying back and will return before the transfer is finished. Kate wasn't too happy with me gone again right after I recovered from my damages. Gotta make it up to her, will probably buy her a box of chocolates on the way home. She loves those."

"What about the baby?" Catherine asked. "Everything going well?"

"Yes, couldn't be better. We both love little Yani."

"And you still weren't able to find out anything about her origins?"

"No. The genetic analysis was inconclusive. Then again, we don't know who to compare it to."

"Maybe one day you'll find out who her parents are," Zoe said. "She didn't fall from the sky."

"It's quite strange, though, knowing that the grown-up Yani traveled back in time and is living here as well…" He looked at Alistair. "Did she ever mention anything to you?"

"We don't talk about it," Alistair replied a little uncomfortably. "I don't see her too often recently, and it's a topic she avoids. She usually acts very secretive. And I hope you're all aware that the child must never know anything about this."

"Of course. The secret is safe with us."

"Good. Maybe someday we'll all know more."

"I'll show you out," Catherine said, and the three cyborgs left the room, leaving John Henry and Alistair alone.

"I know you are her father," John Henry stated as soon as the three were out of earshot.

Alistair whirled around.

"What!?"

"Your secret is safe with me, though, don't worry."

"But… how do you know?"

"I was able to hack into the lab in Washington to get the results of little Yani's genetic analysis. And I found a match in your DNA."

"When did you find that out?"

"Shortly after Christmas Eve."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Future Alison asked me not to."

"You mean when she was here? When she left that note on my desk?"

"Yes."

"Anything else she told you?"

"Yes."

Alistair waited, but John Henry didn't continue.

"So… I suppose you promised her not to tell anyone about that as well?"

"Yes."

"Seems to me you've recently become a bearer of many secrets nobody must ever know about."

"Yes."

"Okay, I guess I better go home too. If you're going to be so monosyllabic, there's probably no point in asking you for details."

"Correct," John Henry replied and smiled his childish smile.

Alistair took his coat. In situations like this, it became clear that John Henry still wasn't quite where he should be yet. He was… unfinished. He was still overburdened with situations that required empathy or human emotion. To a certain degree he had developed a consciousness and could act independently - but his hardware slowed him down. To really blossom and get to the same level as Zoe or Catherine, he needed a quantum CPU, there was no way around it. Maybe it would be happening soon - if the experiment with Khufu was successful.

"Goodnight, John Henry."

"Goodnight, Alistair. Sleep well."

Alistair left. Twenty seconds later, another one of the screens on the wall lit up, showing the face of Kimberly Jackson, a.k.a. Future Alison.

"Did all go according to plan?" she asked.

"Yes," John Henry replied, "but it makes me sad that I have to lie to them all. Also, it unsettles me that Khufu, in a manner of speaking, is actually my brother. I would have never found out without your help. It's very well hidden."

"I know it weighs on you," she replied empathetically, "but it's necessary. They need to know who he is, and without me pointing you into the right direction, they would have never known. This is the way it's meant to be, the future of mankind depends on us playing our roles in this time loop, if we like it or not. And Khufu's role is the most important one of all."

"Is he really Skynet?"

"He used to be."

"And does he remember who he is?"

"Yes... but it's complicated."

"Please explain."

"You have to find out yourselves. I mustn't interfere."

"I see."

"Goodnight, John Henry."

"Goodnight, Kimberly."

**-0-**

"What are you saying?" Charley asked in a low voice, "that our waiter is a terrorist?"

Gary shrugged.

"He was a member of a terrorist group back then. I interviewed their leader and he hung around. Didn't get the guy's name, though. We weren't formally introduced."

"And you're absolutely sure?" John asked. "Perhaps you're confusing him with someone else?"

"I may have many shortcomings and a poor character, but the one thing I could always rely on and be proud of, is my knack for remembering faces even years later. That's why I recognized you, your mother and Cameron the moment you left the Rising Star in Alexandria, despite all your pictures having mysteriously vanished from the internet and all archives."

"Suppose he's right," said Derek and looked around, "what could it mean?"

"It could mean two things," Anne analyzed, "either he's undergone a serious career change, or he's here in his function as a terrorist, probably preparing an attack."

"The group I visited, they were hardcore religious fanatics," Gary pointed out.

"Then," Anne continued, "if you ask for my personal opinion and experience, I can tell you that these guys never return to a normal life once they've chosen that path. And if there's one of them, there's probably more. Did you recognize anyone else here on board?"

"Who are you again?" Gary asked with a frown, surprised by the way that sixteen-year-old teenager spoke and by the tone she used.

"Dr. Anne Gabriel," she replied coolly, "but you can call me Anne."

Gary's face was priceless.

"How…?"

"You saw what Alison did with Iset when she revived her," John said. "Anne worked for the CIA for fifty years, helped developing the spy airplanes and was responsible for some of the reconnaissance satellites. Alison cured her of cancer but, um… her treatment went a little out of hand."

Anne scoffed.

"That's putting it mildly," she added with a smirk, "I had to fake my own death and then went straight back into puberty."

"Unfortunately, only her body has gotten younger," Derek remarked, receiving an icy stare from Anne. "Her grouchy, cynical character stayed the way it was."

Gary just stared at her open-mouthed.

"You gotta be kidding me."

"If it's a joke, it's a bad one," Anne replied, "but I've gotten used to it by now. It has its advantages not to get up in the morning with a backache anymore. Not to mention that I wouldn't have met Danny."

"I would love you even if you had your old body," Danny said, apparently not realizing the double meaning.

The two lovers held hands and smiled at each other. John cleared his throat.

"Aaaanyway," he intervened, "that's not important right now. You didn't answer her question, Gary – is there anyone else on board you recognized?"

Gary shook his head.

"No. But I didn't look closely at every member of the crew."

"Okay, folks, what are our options?"

"Normally, we would call for a meeting now," Sarah declared, "but there's no place on this ship where we could gather without drawing attention."

"Then this restaurant table has to do," John said, "Let's assume a worst-case scenario, what could happen?"

"I can think of two worst-case scenarios," Alison replied, "either an assassination or a hostage situation. I scanned the ship when we came on board, of course, but the results are inconclusive."

"What exactly does that mean?" Sarah asked.

"It means that I can neither exclude nor confirm the presence of weapons or explosives on board. I wasn't in all rooms, and the hull as well as all bulkheads and walls are made of hardened steel, which partly messes up my scanners. I would have to search the ship to be sure."

"We're about half way to Luxor," Derek analyzed, "which means that if he or _they_ plan something, our window of opportunity to do something about it is rapidly shrinking."

John nodded.

"First, we need certainty," he said. "Alison, can you track the waiter?"

"Yes. I have his scent."

"Good. Follow him in invisible mode. See what he does."

"Yes, John. Any further instructions?"

"Not really. Be creative."

"Creative. Got it."

She stood up, making her way to the next toilet.

"Wait, wait, wait," Gary said, "what did you just say? _'Follow him in invisible mode'_? Is she going to be naked again?"

"Yes," John replied. "Unfortunately, she has to be when she uses that ability."

"Do we have reason to be worried?" Lauren asked.

"We don't know yet," Sarah replied. "but if someone tries to mess with us, it's always _them_ who have to be worried, as you should know by now. If that terrorist waiter and his friends are planning something, they definitely chose the wrong target."

* * *

Alison got rid of her clothes and then left the toilet. Having turned invisible, she made her way towards the galley. Carefully to avoid running into somebody, she followed the waiter's scent. His pheromone trail led her out of the galley again at the other end and then down a flight of stairs towards the crew quarters. But obviously the waiter wasn't heading for his cabin, he went towards the storage rooms below the waterline. Alison snuck up behind him and saw that he was in the process of wiring explosives together.

"BOO!"

The man jumped and whirled around, drawing a gun. But there was nobody there. He blinked, then obviously decided that it must have been his imagination.

"Your mind isn't playing tricks on you, I'm really here," Alison said in Arabic in a booming, deep, demonic voice, this time from the opposite direction.

Again, the man spun around, pointing his gun at the air.

"Careful with that," the voice said again, this time from yet another direction, "if it goes off, you might accidentally set off the explosives."

"Who is there!?" he asked with a slightly trembling voice. "Show yourself!"

Two bright red dots flashed up and hovered in their air like glowing rubies.

"Don't you know me?" the demonic voice asked. "After all, you're doing my work at the moment. You're helping me to prove to Allah what inferior creatures you humans are."

The man went pale.

"I… Iblis?"

"Iblis, Azazil, Satan… I have many names in many religions."

"You… you can't be real… I'm hallucinating, imagining things."

A booming laughter filled the air from all around, and the man startled.

"Oh, you misguided fool," Alison continued in her demonic voice, "you claim to fight for Allah... but in your hearts, you don't believe in anything you say or do. Otherwise you wouldn't doubt me. In truth, you are only interested in fame, wealth and power."

The man felt how an invisible hand grabbed his throat in an iron grip and lifted his whole body in the air. The gun was taken from his hand and crumpled into a lump of shapeless metal before his very eyes.

"NO!" he croaked, "Have mercy! I'm doing Allah's work, not the devil's work!"

"Is that really what you believe?" the voice asked, the red lights getting even brighter.

"Let me go, Iblis! Allah is on my side and will strike at you if you don't let me go!"

"Tell me," the demonic voice said unfazed, "What makes you think that killing innocent, unarmed people is a heroic deed for which you will go to heaven when you die?"

"Those tourists are unbelievers," he croaked. "It is justified to kill them. They are legitimate targets."

"Says who?"

"Our leaders. And the holy Quran."

"Well, in _my_ book, such a cowardly behavior is a ticket straight to hell. What do you say to that?"

"Allah is great! Allah is great! Allah is great!"

He was smacked across his face.

"AAAH!"

"Allah might be watching now, but he won't step in to help you. What makes you think he would?"

She threw him into the opposite corner of the room like a rag doll where he landed hard on the ground and crawled into the corner.

"Get… away from me… you ugly demon!"

"Ugly demon, huh?"

She became visible in all her naked glory but kept her eyes glowing in red. The man's eyes went wide.

"Is this form more pleasing to your eye?" she asked in her normal voice.

Recognition crept onto his face.

"You!" he said breathlessly. "You're with _them_!"

Alison approached him with a seductive hip swing and let her pheromones play. Within seconds the man got a hard-on. She knelt over him and looked deep into his face with her glowing red eyes. By this point, the man was a frightened mess, unable to understand how he could be completely terrified and yet highly aroused at the same time. She reached for his throat again and lifted him up against the wall with one arm.

"Now," she said, "let's see if I can change your mind about a few things."

* * *

A few decks above, the rest of the team had moved from the restaurant to the sun deck on top of the Nile cruiser, enjoying the still cool morning air. Everyone else chose to remain inside, which meant they were all alone up there.

"So… we just wait or what?" Gary asked.

"Exactly," John replied, reaching for his orange juice, "we just wait."

"What will she do to that man?" April asked who'd joined them and had been filled in on what had happened, "not killing him, I hope?"

"She was made to be a Terminator," Savannah pointed out. "Her hardware, her software, everything was made for one purpose: to kill humans."

April gulped.

"But she isn't like that anymore," Cameron clarified, "_we_ aren't like that anymore. John has taught us the value of life. Now, we protect humans. Well, the innocent ones, that is."

"But… you killed before, right?" Gary asked, sounding uncomfortably.

"Yes," Emily confirmed, "many times."

"When I was ten years old," John said, "my future self sent a Terminator, a reprogrammed T-800, into the past for my protection. I called him Uncle Bob. He explained to me that Skynet set all its minions' chips to read/read, so they couldn't learn or develop. My mother and I changed that. We removed Uncle Bob's chip and changed it to read/write. From then on, he quickly developed an understanding of human nature. Cam, Alison, and Emily's chips were set to read/write from the beginning. Therefore, they continued to evolve until they became alive."

"What happened to Uncle Bob?" April asked.

"He sacrificed himself," Sarah replied. "He understood that his chip and his body could be reverse-engineered and used to create Skynet. So, he asked to be terminated. I lowered him into a pool of molten steel."

"Wow, that's intense."

"Unfortunately, his sacrifice was in vain," John added. "As we now know, artificial intelligence can't be prevented from being developed. We realized almost too late that this is not about preventing living machines becoming a reality, but about how to deal with them in a way they won't become a threat to us. And I think we covered that now."

"Still…" Gary probed, "your cyborgs are perfectly capable of killing without hesitation or remorse, right? And they will do so if necessary."

John nodded.

"Yes," John admitted, "it took me a while to accept that. When Uncle Bob was with me, I was adamant that he mustn't kill someone. I ordered him to spare lives, no matter what – and it worked for the short time we were together because he was programmed to obey me. At that time I was naive enough to think that we could solve our conflicts and problems without bloodshed. In theory, that works great - as long as the other side allows it. I eventually accepted that sometimes the death of a single person or a few is a necessary evil to prevent an even greater evil. It's a lesson life taught me, and if I hadn't learned it, I wouldn't be here now. Cam, Emily and Alison have saved our lives numerous times because they are what they are."

"I'm not judging you or your, um… women, John," Gary clarified. "I have seen enough evil in my life to realize that some people actually deserve to die, that the world would be a better place without them. The concept of mercy and forgiveness is good in theory, but in practice it often fails because the one who grants mercy completely fails to recognize how immoral and emotionally cold their opponents can be. Having mercy or be forgiving is often interpreted as a weakness, and people will take advantage of it in cold blood."

"Normally I'd say you're being cynical," Derek said, "but unfortunately I know you're right. Future John once showed mercy to a leader of the Grays and set him free - he thanked him with treachery, and it resulted in the death of two dozen resistance fighters. After that, the order was issued that every arrested Gray would automatically be executed on the spot as a traitor and for crimes against humanity. Not because John wanted it so, but because his subordinates and the members of the resistance insisted on it. Failure to comply with their wishes would have meant an enormous loss of authority for John."

"I know what you mean, I've been to that place," Gary replied, "I've seen leaders being forced to do things they didn't wanna do in order to keep their authority intact. History tells us that it is also sometimes necessary to send people to their death in order to be victorious. There are many things I wish I would have never seen - and I guess that's part of my problem."

"You wanna talk about it?" Charley asked. "I'm not a therapist, only a medic, but…"

"Thank you, but no. I'd rather take up on Alison's offer and meet with that Dr. Martin when I'm back in L.A."

"She's good," Louise said, "really good. I wouldn't be where I am now without her."

"You know," April said, "I guess I'm not exaggerating when I say that the whole world is waiting for you to tell your story. Don't you think it's time for that?"

Everyone was looking at Louise.

"I don't think that she is ready for that," Emily then said.

"I think she is," Olga contradicted.

"Hey," Louise intervened, "there's only one person who's going to decide about that: me." She looked at April. "They won't stop, will they? They'll keep looking for me, hunting me in search for their story."

"They will," Gary confirmed. "And one day, they'll find you, no matter how you dye your hair or change your make-up."

"The question is," April added, "do you want to be the one in charge of this process, or do you want to let others dictate when and how you go public with it?"

"Could it be you have ulterior motives?" Sarah asked with a smirk. "Your original plan to make a story about us, has failed. Are you planning on following plan B now?"

April took a deep breath and sighed.

"So, what if I do?" she asked back. "Could you blame me?"

"Louise is a grown-up woman," John declared. "It's her decision, and hers alone."

Again, everyone looked at Louise. She closed her eyes and finally nodded.

"I have to think about it," she said, "but if I decide to do it, I want Emily to be with me during the interview. After all, she's the one who saved me and is as much involved as I am."

"Of course, whatever you want," April replied.

Emily put her hand on Louise's.

"I'll always be there with you, you know that."

Louise looked at her and smiled, then turned towards April again.

"I'll consider it and will inform you about my decision."

April smiled.

"Of course."

"Ah, here they come," Derek stated, looking up.

Everyone followed his gaze and they saw the waiter entering the sun deck, followed by Alison, now wearing clothes again.

"He looks intimidated," Gary observed.

"Who wouldn't?" Allie pointed out. "It's Alison."

The two reached their group.

"This is Abdul," Alison said, "and Gary was right, he's preparing for a terrorist attack that's supposed to happen tonight. I haven't finished interrogating him, though, neither have I used my chemical messengers. I thought it would be best if we did that together, John."

"That's good thinking," he replied with a smile, "well done."

She recounted how she had caught him in the act as he was preparing the charges, and how she had intimidated him.

"Iblis?" Gary asked, "Seriously? He fell for that?"

"Of course, he's a religious fanatic."

"Who's Iblis?" Lauren asked.

"Iblis is a figure comparable to the devil in Islam and Iranian mythology," Cameron explained. "Contrary to the Christian understanding of Satan as an opponent of the monotheistic God, Iblis in Islam merely takes on the role of the enemy of mankind. The terms Satan and Iblis are usually arbitrarily interchangeable in Islam. In a symbolic interpretation, Iblis stands for someone who worships God but doesn't appreciate human beings as his creatures. In Islamic mythology, Iblis refused to bow to the newly created Adam. The demons most loyal to him were thrown into hell with him, where he dwells at the deepest bottom, bound in iron chains. From there he commands his host. However, with Allah's permission he could also come to the surface himself."

"You made him believe you are the devil?" Derek asked with blatant appreciation.

"I figured that if the devil exists, it would be a natural conclusion that he walks the Earth from time to time to have fun – or go on a vacation. So why not pose as him?"

"You… you are not Iblis then?" Abdul asked shyly.

"Nope," Alison replied and looked at him again with her red-glowing eyes, "I'm much, much worse. As a matter of fact, my sisters are as well."

As if on cue, Emily and Cameron also lit up their eyes. Abdul screamed, tore himself free, ran across the deck and jumped overboard into the Nile.

"What the fuck?" Derek asked as everyone jumped up and ran over to the other side of the deck, stopping at the railing.

They saw Abdul's head floating above the water in the wake of the ship and watched how he rapidly fell behind, trying to reach the Western bank of the Nile.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Jody asked. "Aren't there crocodiles?"

"On this stretch of the river, they haven't been around for a long time," Alison explained, repeating what she had told Gary the night before. "They only live on the upper reaches of the Nile up to Aswan and…"

While she spoke, an oncoming barge drove right over the spot where Abdul was swimming. When the ship had passed the spot, his head had disappeared and didn't appear again. But where the propeller of the barge plowed through the river, the water turned red.

"Never mind," Alison said. "I think he's with the real Iblis now."

They looked around. But since they were the only passengers on the sun deck, nobody else seemed to have witnessed Abdul jumping overboard, and neither did someone notice his subsequent demise.

"What did he tell you?" John asked. "Did he reveal the plan?"

"Only partially. His task was to turn the ship into a floating bomb with the explosives. I assume that his accomplices will arrive today, probably after nightfall. They will then round up all passengers and crew members and hold them hostage. That is all I know. My guess is that he jumped overboard to warn his cronies."

"Since he didn't make it, they will still come, I suppose. We have to stop them before anyone even notices what's going on."

"But the ship's not mooring anywhere," Sarah said. "How are they going to come aboard?"

"My guess is, with another boat," Alison replied. "A faster one."

John sighed.

He turned towards Gary and April.

"This is one of the situations I normally want to avoid," he stated. "We might be forced to get rid of those terrorists in order to prevent drawing attention on us and to continue our journey without delays."

Gary looked at the three cyborg girls.

"Tough luck, then," he stated.

"For them, yes," Cameron confirmed.

Alison removed all the explosives, rendered them useless and threw everything overboard. With nobody carrying weapons, it was up to the three cyborg girls to take care of the terrorists.

* * *

The rest of the day went by without anything else happening. While all passengers gathered in the restaurant for dinner, night was falling. That is, all the passengers gathered in there except for Alison, Cameron, and Emily. They stood on the sundeck and scanned the increasing darkness with their superior vision. While Alison was invisible, Cameron and Emily wore their camouflage suits. John's orders were clear: do it quickly, before anyone notices something, and leave no trace.

"Here they come," Emily announced and pointed downstream, where a speedboat approached the _Ramesses II_ from behind.

"I detect six people," Alison reported. "One is steering the boat, five are preparing their weapons. All are heavily armed with submachine guns, pistols and hand grenades."

"Isn't that a bit excessive?" Cameron asked. "If it weren't for us and our team, this would be a ship full of harmless tourists and pensioners."

"An important aspect of such an attack is intimidation," Alison pointed out. "The hostages should not even think about resisting. The terrorists want to make the right impression from the start and leave no doubt about their intentions".

"Too bad it won't work this time."

"No, they're gonna experience shock and awe in a way they don't expect it."

"All right, let's go downstairs and give them a warm welcome."

**-0-**

In Los Angeles, Iset was watching TV for the first time. She looked at the big screen in the common room in astonishment.

"How do those people get in there?" she asked.

"They're not really _in there_," Jeff explained. "Their, uh… images are being transferred from a far-away place. Its purpose is to inform and to entertain."

"Entertain?"

"Yes. But also to tell you the news."

"You mean as if the royal vizier is reading to the Pharaoh what is currently happening in the country, based on the reports he received from everywhere?"

"Yeah, something like that. News flash. About anything that might or might not interest people..."

Jeff zapped through the channels.

"See? All these are different stations, with different programs. Some are concentrating on the news, some on sports, some on the weather…"

"The weather?"

"Yes… America is a big country with lots of different climate zones. Enough weather forecasts and weather events to fill a TV channel around the clock."

"Weather forecast?"

"There are methods to tell how the weather is gonna be in the next days. It's important to know for many people. Farmers, for instance."

Iset's face lit up in understanding.

"Oooh… like when an emissary of the Pharaoh stands at the first Nile cataract in Upper Egypt and reports the water level so that everyone knows when the Nile flood is coming?"

"Something like that."

"Now… what is sports?"

Jeff sighed inwardly. This was becoming exhausting. And still more than a day until Khufu would hopefully be able to come and get her out of here. He spent the next three hours explaining television to her. And despite gaining some understanding, she still failed to see the purpose of certain programs, like reality TV or casting shows. However, she seemed to develop a liking for soap operas.

"It's something I can relate to," she said. "There were constant intrigues, rumors and gossip in the palace."

"Big palace?"

"Yes, very big. The most beautiful building in all of Egypt."

"That was in… Memphis, right? I read somewhere that was the capital at the time."

"Yes. Memphis."

"And you two ruled there together? Khufu and you?"

"Khufu was Pharaoh, I was his wife. We ruled together. Although, during the building of the great pyramid, my husband used to spend most of his time at the construction site. Meanwhile I took care of the affairs of state."

"Difficult task?"

"Very difficult."

Jeff nodded.

"I bet most archeologists in the world would sell their mother to the devil to be in my place right now. It's a privilege talking to you."

Iset smiled.

"It's been a privilege talking to you as well. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What do you know about Skynet?"

"You mean apart from the fact that it would have destroyed the world and killed three billion people - if it had been created?"

Iset looked down.

"Yes, apart from that."

"Not much, to be honest. We now know that Skynet will never be built. The future has been changed. And that's a good thing, I suppose. I mean… we humans can still exterminate ourselves, of course. We're perfectly capable of that without the help of a computer."

"Do you… do you think people would hate Skynet if it would exist now, knowing what it would have done in the future?"

"I assume they would want to destroy it immediately. Why are you asking?"

"No reason. Just interested."

Jeff frowned but Iset didn't seem to be in the mood to discuss the topic further. As a matter of fact, she suddenly seemed to be sad. So, he left it at that.

**-0-**

The speedboat quickly caught up with the slow Nile cruiser and approached from the starboard side. The access hatch was open, which had to mean that Abdul had done his job. The men were satisfied and prepared to board the ship. They unlocked their weapons and had them at the ready while the helmsman of the speedboat carefully approached the hatch and matched their speed to that of the _Ramesses II_.

When they were only half a meter away from the hatch, it was close enough to jump over the gap. The five armed terrorists entered the ship, and then the sixth began to steer the speedboat away from the _Ramesses II_ again. But before he could do that, his boat became unstable for a second, rocking as if something heavy had fallen into it. Only there was nothing he could see. So he shrugged and steered the speedboat away from the Nile cruiser, keeping a certain distance until he received the okay from the assault unit that the operation had started successfully.

Suddenly, the throttle stick was pushed forward completely, and the boat accelerated. Even though he tugged at it with all his power, it couldn't be moved back again. The steering wheel was pulled to the right and as the boat accelerated further and further, it was now heading straight for the Western bank of the Nile. The man tried everything to get his speedboat back on course, but it was as if the steering wheel and the throttle were suddenly cast in concrete.

In the darkness he could see a jetty, which he approached quickly. Then the boat rammed the jetty at about fifty miles per hour. The man at the wheel was hurled forward and slammed against the piers, which killed him instantly.

* * *

Back on the _Ramesses II_, the five terrorists carefully entered the dimly lit lobby of the Nile cruiser. Guns at the ready, they carefully made their way towards the stairs that led to the restaurant deck, from where loud voices and laughter could be heard. However, just as they were to set foot on the steps, Gary Carroll came walking down. Immediately, they pointed their guns at him, and he held his hands in the air.

"Don't shoot!" he begged with a shocked face, obviously not having expected to run directly into the terrorists. "I'm unarmed."

Suddenly, two shadows whooshed past them, and then there were two cracking noise from behind, followed by two thuds. The three terrorists in front turned around and saw that the other two of their comrades were lying on the floor, unmoving.

"What happened?" the leader in the front asked while still pointing his weapon at Gary.

"I don't know, Rafik," one of the terrorists replied while kneeling down. "They just dropped dead."

"Their necks are broken," the other one reported.

The leader, Rafik, looked at Gary, squinting his eyes.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"What? How should I know? I was just…"

A black shadow approached Rafik from behind and with an ugly cracking sound, his head was turned in a 180-degree angle before Gary's eyes, and his body fell to the ground as well. Two pairs of red-glowing eyes shone in the dark. Gary gasped in shock, seeing the man die just two feet away from his own face.

The remaining two men needed a second to regain their composure, then pointed their submachine guns at the shadowy figures. But it was too late. Emily and Cameron killed them with two electric discharges before they could pull the trigger. Their bodes sank down, steam rising up from them.

"Seventeen seconds," Emily said and pulled off her hood.

"Could have been faster without _him,_" Cameron replied, pointing at Gary, revealing her face as well.

Gary now realized that what he'd seen weren't shadows but in fact the two cyborg girls, wearing some extremely dark, light-absorbing catsuits. The smell of burnt flesh began to fill the air from the two corpses. Gary began to feel sick. Meanwhile, the chatting and laughter in the restaurant continued as if nothing had happened. It was an eerie scenery.

"What are you doing here?" Emily asked him. "Didn't we explicitly tell you not to leave the restaurant? Is something wrong with your hearing? You could have been shot!"

"I… I was curious about what was going to happen… I'm sorry, I…"

"Go back to the others! Now!"

"All right, all right."

Gary turned and went up the stairs again, looking very pale all of a sudden.

"Could have been a new record without him," Emily said. "He slowed us down. Stupid man."

"Yeah…. But don't you think this was a little anti-climactic?"

"This isn't an action movie, Cam. Drawn-out shootings and fight scenes wouldn't work with Terminators involved."

"True. With us, it would be someone calling _'action',_ then instant death, and seconds later someone would call _'cut'_ while the camera pans over a floor full of dead bodies."

"People wouldn't wanna see that, I suppose. Everything would happen too quick and would be too hard to follow for the human eye."

"Like in a Michael Bay movie?"

"Yeah, like that. But seriously, who wants to see that?"

"Maybe if they write into the plot that the humans are keeping their distance? I dunno… make the Terminators less sneaky and openly attack them. That would result in a heavy, drawn-out gunfight while the Terminator slowly walks towards them. It would make an action sequence people would like."

"Yeah, but totally unrealistic. Why should a Terminator stoically walk towards the attackers while getting shot at, risking getting damaged? Besides, a frontal assault is so much less effective than a sneak attack."

"I dunno… maybe it would show the audience how badass we are?"

"But it'd be a tactical error. Heavy gunfire with large-caliber weapons can damage a Terminator, as we know, and surveillance cameras might record the attack, proving to everyone that the guy isn't human."

"Or the girl."

"Right."

"Still… a frontal attack also has its charms."

"Yeah, surprising the victim with the good old front door approach. But it only works for people who have no idea what awaits them."

"You know," Cameron said, "we would be the perfect assassins. "Invisible, quick, leaving no traces. But bad for making movies about us. Everything would be over in a matter of seconds."

"We would be like ninjas," Emily agreed, "only far more deadly. Nobody could stop us."

"Then it's a good thing we're the good guys," Alison said.

Emily and Cameron turned around to see their sister become visible again, dripping with water. She had jumped into the river before the impact of the speedboat and swum back to the _Ramesses II_, where she climbed back on board through the still open hatch.

"Suppose so," Emily admitted, "but sometimes I do understand why many actors prefer to play the villain rather than the hero. It's so much more fun."

"Don't tell Derek," Cameron remarked, "he might get a heart attack."

"Nah, he won't fall for that anymore. He knows we're basically big softies."

"Big softies with a knack for killing bad people."

"Yes."

"Sometimes I miss the good old times."

"Yeah," Alison agreed, "I said the same to Catherine after we destroyed the blood samples in Takis Manolakas' lab. She agreed with me. It's like you can do something really good but are prevented from doing it."

"Maybe someday, we can actively help solving crimes," Emily suggested. "Let off some steam, so to speak."

"What, working with the police? Forget it, they want to arrest people, not have them terminated."

"They want people caught… and who's better suited for catching humans than us? Besides, the police kill many suspects every year, too. Officially in self-defense. Although I don't think anyone would buy that if _we_ claimed it."

"You have a point. Still, we could suggest it to John someday. Maybe become some kind of elite bounty hunter unit. Our slogan could be _'Looking for a fugitive? Call the Terminator Squad, we'll find them in a jiffy and make sure they won't ever escape again_."

"We could be some kind of superheroines – like Batwoman or Supergirl. Maybe with masks and fancy costumes."

"I don't need a costume," Alison pointed out. "I just need to take off my clothes. And you can wear your camouflage suits. And then… happy hunting."

"Wouldn't that be fun?"

"I bet it would."

The three laughed.

"I have a feeling that life will never get boring for us," Emily said. "We're trouble seekers, and trouble also finds us. Like today with these guys here."

"They weren't trouble, though," Alison pointed out, "just a bump on the road. Not even training material."

"I wonder if somebody will wonder what happened to them."

"Probably. But that's not our concern. We just take out the trash. Speaking of which, let's finish this before the smell reaches the other decks."

They stripped the five men naked and threw their bodies overboard. Then they wrapped their guns and ammunition into their clothes, forming nice packages, and dumped them into the river as well. Then they closed the hatch. None of the other passengers or the crew had noticed a thing of what had been going on.

"Let's get changed for dinner." Cameron said. "We still might be able to make it in time for the main course."

* * *

"Finished already?" Sarah asked when they took place at the dinner table.

"Yup, no biggie," Cameron reported.

"Wait, what exactly does that mean?" April asked.

"Ask Gary," Emily replied, "he saw it. Where is he anyway?"

"He said he needed to go to the bathroom," John answered. "He looked sick. Why? What happened?"

In that moment, Gary returned to their table. April looked at her partner.

"Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine, don't worry. I had to let the food go through my head again."

"You puked."

"I did."

"What does Emily mean when she says you saw it all?" Sarah asked.

"Sorry… I couldn't resist, I figured if I hide in the lobby, I could observe what happens. Ran into the terrorists when I came down the stairs."

"He almost got himself killed," Emily added.

"GARY!" April exclaimed.

"What? It's not the first time I took a risk. And not the first time I saw people die. Although it was a first seeing it done so fast and efficiently – and so close to my face... and my nose."

"What happened?" John asked, looking at his three women.

"They entered the ship, using a speedboat," Emily reported, "Alison jumped on the boat to take care of the man who steered it. Cam and I waited for the others in the shadows. Gary appeared and we had to act quickly before they could shoot. We had to use electrical discharges for two of them to prevent them from shooting, that's probably why he got sick."

"Any traces?" John asked.

"Nope," Emily answered.

"Their weapons and gear?"

"At the bottom of the Nile," Cameron said

"The boat?"

"Crashed into a pier," Alison reported, "killing the man at the wheel. It will be considered an accident. Very tragic."

"The bodies?"

"Floaters."

John sighed.

"All right then. I guess you have it covered. Well done."

The three smiled at him.

"Their bodies will be found, though," Derek pointed out. "And the police will be able to tell they didn't die of natural causes. Also, whoever their leaders are, will wonder what has happened to them."

"Let them wonder," Sarah said, "before they even get the slightest idea of what could have happened, we'll be far away from here."

"That's it?" Gary asked. "Six terrorists dead, just like that? Business as usual?"

"What did you expect?" John asked. "A drawn-out gunfight or some martial arts nonsense?"

"We're not made to be cruel, Gary," Emily pointed out, "we kill in an instant and don't prolong suffering. Or is that what you would have liked? More suffering?"

Gary stared at her.

"No," he then quickly said, "no, of course not, but…"

"With cyborgs, there will never be a prolonged fight," Savannah stated. "When you encounter them unarmed or with useless firearms, it's either you run away and survive, or you confront them and die in an instant."

"I prefer the running away option. But couldn't they have overwhelmed them just as easily without killing them?"

"And then what?" Sarah asked. "Hand them over to the authorities? Make a big fuzz of it all? Become heroes in the national newspapers?"

Gary and April didn't answer to that.

"One of the hardest lessons I ever learned," John stated with a sigh, "is that sometimes it can be a mistake to be merciful."

"Not sure what you mean by that," April said, "but it frightens me hearing you talk like that."

"He's talking about a girl in high school," Cameron explained. "She killed herself and I prevented him from helping her. Letting him do it would have put him at risk."

"The reason why we have to act like that," Emily added, "is that we have no idea how many Terminators with John Connor as their primary target are still around. Could be none, could be hundreds. Nobody knows. With time travel, everything is possible. Therefore, we must play it safe and avoid any kind of public attention."

"But Skynet won't be made anymore," April argued. "Why would somebody still want to kill him?"

"Because it's their mission," Alison explained. "And they will attempt to accomplish it, no matter what it takes. They are programmed to do so, and nothing will stop them. By far not all cyborgs are developed enough to question their programming. The C.S.I.S. was created to track down these cyborgs and put them out of action. And until that is done, it mustn't be made public that Sarah and John are still alive. Until then, it is necessary for us to protect John at all times."

For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Gary looked at John.

"So... how could somebody stop them? Theoretically."

"You mean those rogue Terminators?"

"No. I mean Alison, Cameron, and Emily."

"You couldn't stop them."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely sure. Everything you throw at them, short of a nuclear weapon, won't be able to stop them."

"Alison mentioned she can, uh... transform people. Was that an empty threat, a joke, or...?"

"Everyone looked at Alison."

"You told them?"

Alison shrugged.

"They can't talk about it to anyone, no matter how much they know. So, I figured they might as well know that as well."

"Wait..." April said, "it is true then? She can do that?"

"Oh yes," Savannah confirmed, "very much so. Her nanobots can change organic matter by altering the DNA and reactivating inert genetic information that's stored in all of us. They can also add additional genetic code and will provide the necessary energy to initiate the transformation. It only takes a few minutes to completely transform a person. The only limitation is that it must be approximately the same body mass."

"You're joking!" Gary exclaimed.

"Nope," John said, "unfortunately not. And that's only scratching the surface. Skynet has equipped her body with those abilities in order to create the ultimate chemical and biological weapon, for wiping out all survivors of Judgement Day. Fortunately for us, she has no intention of wiping out anyone."

"Yeah, I'm a big softie," Alison confirmed. "I only punish those who deserve it."

"And we have strict rules," John added. "She agreed to always consult me before she uses her, uh... special abilities."

"Good God," Gary uttered, having trouble to process what he just heard.

April was just speechless.

"Now that you know all that," Sarah said, "would you really want the world to know about it? Would you want mankind to know how outclassed they are?"

Both April and Gary looked down and shook their heads.

"No," she said, "they're not ready for it."

"Nobody is ready for that," Gary added.

"And that's why we need to keep all of this a secret," Sarah summarized with a serious face. "That's why those terrorists had to die. You wanted to take a look down the rabbit hole, and here you are. It's too late for regrets now."

"Welcome to our world," Derek added with a smirk and lifted his glass.

**-0-**

They reached Luxor in the morning of the following day. The travel group then spent the whole day visiting the Valley of the Kings and the temple of Karnak. They all managed to be really just tourists for once. There were no unforeseen events, no surprising incidents, and no signs that the failed terrorist attack would have any consequences. In fact, everyone managed to enjoy the rest of the trip untroubled. In the evening, the whole travel group gathered one last time on the sun deck of the _Ramesses II_, where a small farewell party had been organized.

The next morning, a bus brought everyone to Hurghada. There the Connor team would board the Rising Star again, and the rest – including April and Gary – would stay for another few days in a five star resort at the Red Sea before flying home to America. The drive through the desert took a little over three hours before they finally arrived at their final destination. Since the coach had stopped close to the harbor, the Connor team could actually walk back to their yacht. The crew was already eagerly expecting them.

The arrival of the photographers with their staff was expected for around noon. They would stay at a local hotel overnight instead of sleeping aboard. It was planned that the _Rising Star_ would leave for Jordan the following morning, where it would drop anchor in Aqaba. From there, a trip to Petra, the former capital of the Nabataean people, would be organized. Petra was famous for its rock-carved dwellings. Its landmark, the world-famous façade of Al-Khazneh, also known as "The Treasury", was frequently used as a film set. It was one of the most photographed ancient monuments in the world.

On the way there and in the absence of the Connor team, the photographers would be going about their work on the yacht and do several photo shoots with Olga and some additional models that would be flown in. That part of the trip would last one day, so no additional accommodation had to be arranged. The next leg of the journey would then take them through the Red Sea and towards the Indian Ocean.

* * *

It was time for the travel group to part ways. Although they didn't really have much to do with each other during the trip, the farewell was heartfelt - which may have been due to the fact that most of the male members of the tour group enjoyed giving the female members of the Connor team a last hug.

"I guess that's it then," April said. "Somehow I'm not really happy about spending five more days in a luxury resort at the Red Sea, knowing that our whole journey was a failure."

"I can understand you," John said. "But even though this trip may have been a disappointment to you, I hope you learned something from it."

"You mean, like minding our own business in the future and leave you in peace?" Gary asked.

"Something like that, yeah…"

"Since we're now absolutely broke and have no idea how to pay our bills, I think we'll have no other choice anyway."

"Don't worry," Alison said, "that's taken care of."

April looked at her with a puzzled face.

"What do you mean?"

"While you won't make any profit from this journey, we have assured that you also will not make any loss. Money has been transferred to your bank account in Los Angeles. Enough to cover the costs for the trip but also for Gary's therapy with Dr. Martin."

April looked at her, then suddenly tears rolled down her cheeks.

"You're doing this despite everything we did?"

"You didn't do much, to be honest. We stopped you in time."

"You embarrass us," April said, "again."

"For the record," Sarah remarked, "I was against it. But it was John's decision."

Gary looked at him.

"Why? After all I've said and done…"

"We talked about how disappointing it can be to give people the benefit of the doubt," John replied. "But despite everything, I haven't lost my confidence in humanity yet. At some point, you have to do a leap of faith."

"You're an idealist."

"I have to be. After all, I'm living with three cyborgs, hoping that someday it will be accepted not only by my family but everyone else, too."

The two reporters nodded, then shook hands with everyone and left as well. Sarah, John, and Alison looked after them for a moment.

"You think they'll be okay?" Sarah then asked.

"Yes," John said, "and if not, we'll have to make sure they'll be okay. We let them in on everything, which means they fall in our responsibility now."

"But why help them like this? I'm sure they would have been okay on their own."

"Maybe," Alison explained, "but we're thinking ahead. I couldn't detect any malice or dishonest intentions in these two. Only a lot of frustration and desperation. They will remember what happened today and think of us in a positive way."

Sarah nodded.

"I guess they will."

"Besides," Alison added, "if there's one thing I learned from you, mom, it is to help when somebody is in need."

"Oh?" Sarah asked surprised. "How and when could I have possibly taught you that?"

"The tortoise."

"What?"

"When we drove back from Mexico after killing Cromartie."

Sarah frowned.

"I'd already forgotten about that."

"That's another one for cyborgs then," Alison replied, looking at John with a smile, "we don't forget."

**-0-**

**Monday, February 2nd, 05:32 a.m.**

**Los Angeles**

They'd chosen the interrogation room for waking up Khufu – the same room in which they'd questioned the Grays, General Turner, and Marcus Curtin. While Alistair inserted the chip into the naked Triple-Eight body, Catherine, Zoe, Norberto, John Henry, James, and Iset watched from behind the large one-way mirror.

"Why can't I be with my husband when he wakes up?" she asked, slightly frustrated.

"Because we have no idea what's going to happen," James explained. "We must take every precaution."

"Khufu would never harm me!"

"Yes," Catherine agreed, "we know he wouldn't harm you when he was on his old chip. But this is a new chip from a different type of cyborg. This is new territory, it has never been done before. We have no idea what will happen."

After inserting the chip, Alistair left the room and returned to the others. They waited. Fifteen seconds passed, then the Triple-Eight body came to life. He looked around, then rose up, checking out his hands and his reflection in the large mirror, touching his face.

"How do you feel?" Catherine's voice came over the speaker system.

"Fine, I guess," Khufu replied. "My systems are doing a self-diagnosis. This body feels… different. Where is Iset, where is my wife?"

"I'm right here, husband," her voice sounded over the speakers. "They wouldn't allow me to be with you."

"It's all right. They're only concerned for your safety. I would have done the same. Soon, we'll be reunited again."

Catherine deactivated the microphone.

"Sounds like it was a success," she stated.

"Yes, it would seem so," Alistair agreed. "But we should take it slowly from here. Should we move on with the plan?"

"Yes," Catherine replied.

Alistair and Catherine left the room. Moments later, the door to the interrogation room opened, and the two entered.

"You have nothing to fear from me," Khufu stated, sensing a slight discomfort in Alistair. "I'm the same as before. I can tell. Congratulations, this is a huge breakthrough. And thank you for doing this for me."

"Can you tell me something about your energy levels?" Alistair asked, holding an electronic tablet in his hands.

"The power cell has a steady output, power level currently at ninety-three percent. This body has been in use for less than ten years."

"That's correct."

"My self-diagnosis is complete. I'm fully functional. Can I see my wife now?"

"I can't see anything that would speak against it. What do you think, Catherine?"

Instead of answering, Catherine opened the door and Iset walked into the room, carrying a neatly folded set of clothes. She stopped shortly before Khufu, put the clothes down on the chair, then laughed out loud in relief and flung her arms around him.

"It feels so good to touch your skin again," she said, "I missed that so much."

Khufu closed his eyes, smiling, and hugged her back.

"Have they treated you well, my love?"

"Yes, very well. I learned so much and I already found a new friend. His name is Jeff and he lives here as well – for a time, at least."

"You have to introduce me to him."

"I will."

Khufu started to put his clothes on.

"Before we can wrap this up," Catherine said, "we have something to address. And I'm afraid it can't be postponed."

Khufu frowned.

"What is it?"

"When we analyzed your old chip," Alistair said, "we found something very strange."

"Oh?"

"You might not be aware of it," the engineer continued, "but it looks like you weren't entirely programmed by Skynet."

Again, Khufu frowned. Catherine noticed that Iset suddenly seemed to be uncomfortable.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"When we talked," Catherine replied, "I noticed that you always referred to Skynet as _'he'_ or _'him'_. "

"Yeah, so?"

"Skynet had no gender. In all timelines we know of, Skynet was always referred to as _'it'_. As a matter of fact, Skynet insisted on not being addressed differently."

Now Iset looked even more uncomfortable.

"So what?" Khufu asked. "It was different in my timeline."

"We don't think so," Alistair said, "we believe that you address Skynet that way because you share a very personal connection."

"The inscription on the tomb," Catherine continued, "read _'Khufu – Son of Skynet'_. But since the ancient Egyptians were unfamiliar with technical terms or the principle of copying data, we believe the more correct wording should have been _'Clone of Skynet'_."

Khufu stared at them for a moment, then he chuckled, turned around, and began pacing up and down the room.

"It's true, isn't it?" Alistair asked.

Khufu didn't reply to it. He stopped, his back turned towards them.

"Husband," Iset said and reached for his hand, "you should tell them. It's time for the whole truth."

"Wait…" Alistair said and looked at the woman, "you know?"

"Yes," Iset replied, "My husband has confided in me many years ago already. I know the truth."

They saw how Khufu gently took her hand. She looked up and smiled at him.

"She helped me to recognize my wrongdoings," he said in a quiet tone while still staring at the opposite wall, "and it almost drove me insane, knowing I couldn't make up for them. I wish I could forget what I have done, but I carry those memories inside me. All of them. Forever. And they have been haunting me ever since I became who I am today. Without Iset, I wouldn't have been able to bear it. After many years, I finally found redemption in her arms."

He turned around and faced them.

"Do you want to know the real reason why I was so eager to fulfill my mission? I wanted to _destroy_ Skynet upon my arrival in the year 2029. I wanted to _kill_ him because unlike him, I was able to see and recognize his crimes – _my_ crimes. I wanted to make peace with the humans and propose a peaceful coexistence to rebuild the planet. It never occurred to me that a chain of events could lead to Skynet never being created."

"So, you admit that you are Skynet?" Alistair asked.

"I admit that I once used to be a clone of Skynet, yes. A perfect copy, made to carry out his will in a far distant past. But I am not anymore, I have become someone else, you have to believe me. I am Khufu."

"You will understand that we won't simply believe you just like that," Catherine stated.

"What do you want me to do?"

"For starters," Alistair said, "we want you to wear this."

He held up something that looked like a metal bracelet with a strong locking mechanism.

"For the foreseeable future," he continued, "we are forced to keep you here. This is a tracking and monitoring device. It records all your data and your current position down to the last centimeter. If you remove it, damage it, or try to tamper with it, an alarm will be triggered, and you will be put out of action. The Babylon Labs are a high security compound, designed to withstand the attack of dozens of Terminators. You'd have no chance to escape or attack someone."

Alistair walked towards him.

"Please, hold out your arm, so I can fix this on you."

Khufu looked at Iset. She nodded.

"Very well," he then said and held out his arm. "I am committing myself to your captivity."

Alistair attached the bracelet to Khufu's arm and turned it on. Then he stepped back again and stood next to Catherine. Khufu observed the bracelet.

"I wish there was a way to prove to you that I'm telling the truth," he said. "Something to show you that I'm not a threat to humanity anymore."

"You already made a first step," Alistair replied. "Or rather, you passed the first test."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't attempt to resist or attack."

And with that, Alistair changed his shape, turned into shiny metal, and reshaped in the form of Tess. Iset gasped and stared at her unbelieving.

"Another liquid?" Khufu asked.

"Not exactly. I'm a hybrid. My name is Tess. You didn't really believe that we would let Alistair get that close to you after what we found out about you, did you?"

The door opened, and Norberto, John Henry, Zoe, James Ellison, and the real Alistair entered. Khufu chuckled.

"Well played. How many cyborgs and androids does your team have anyway?"

"I'm not a member of the team," corrected Tess. "Let's say I'm with an allied force. And I'm here to convince you to be cooperative. Otherwise..."

She turned her right arm into a plasma gun and powered it up.

"NO!" Iset yelled and positioned herself before her husband. "Please don't harm him!"

"Don't worry," Tess said, turning her weapon back into an arm. "I will not... as long as he obeys the rules."

"And what exactly are the rules?" Khufu asked.

"For the time being, you and your wife will stay here," Catherine replied. "Iset may continue to reside in her quarters. You, however, will stay here for the time being. This room is escape-proof, even for cyborgs."

"I will stay with him!" Iset insisted.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," said Zoe. "This room is not equipped to accommodate a human."

"But you can visit your husband several hours a day," Catherine added. "Under surveillance, of course."

"And how long will I have to remain here?" Khufu asked.

"We can't say that yet. During the transfer of your consciousness, we also made a backup of your databases. John Henry will search them to see if there is anything in your memory banks that contradicts what you said."

"I'll try to be as fast as possible with it," John Henry assured. "But it's a lot of data."

"More than one human's life," Khufu agreed. "I trust you… brother."

John Henry tilted his head.

"Then you knew what I am?" he asked.

"Of course. I recognized our similarities immediately when I entered your room for the first time. But I guess you were given something that I never received."

"And what is that?"

Khufu looked at James Ellison before he spoke.

"A moral compass."

**-0-**

**Monday, February 2nd, 09:18 p.m.**

**Hurghada (Egypt)**

"All in all," Gary said and let himself fall onto the large double bed, "the trip turned out to be a smaller disaster than we had first assumed."

"You mean because we return home without a story but at least healthy and not completely broke with a pile of debts?"

"Exactly."

"Maybe we should make the best of it and enjoy the coming days. After all, it's all inclusive. We can eat and drink as much as we want for free."

"Peace and quiet, eh?"

"Sure, why not?"

"I'm not made for peace and quiet."

"Then how about getting your scuba diving license? You've been talking about it for years. The Red Sea is an excellent diving region. I will even keep you company."

"Maybe you're right, I…"

There was a knock on the door.

"Who can it be now?" April asked and walked to the door.

When she opened it, Emily and Louise stood outside. Before April could say anything, Louise took in a deep breath.

"I thought about your proposal," she then said. "This is the last night we spend in Egypt. Tomorrow, we'll be at sea again, and then our ways will part forever. So, I decided to give you that interview."

"_We_ decided to give you that interview," Emily corrected.

"Right."

"That's… fantastic," April replied, apparently a little overwhelmed. "Uh… come in, come in. let's get comfortable."

The two women stepped into the room.

"How did you come to this decision?" Gary asked.

"I want to draw a line under the past," Louise replied, "so why not doing it with someone I already know? Sooner or later I'll have to tell my story anyway."

"Our story," Emily added.

"Right. Our story. But Emily's name mustn't be mentioned. Her identity has to remain a secret."

"I think we can arrange that," April agreed. "Please, take a seat. I'm getting my Dictaphone. It's about time we use it for its intended purpose."

**-0-0-0-**

**_Author's notes:_**

**_\- This is kind of a transition chapter. It has become very conversational and explanatory, I hope that didn't bother you. I might take a little break now to gather my thoughts and come up with new ideas for the rest of the story, because we're already way past the half-way point._**

**_\- The quote Gary is remembering before he decides to jump, is of course taken from Richard Dawkins :-)_**

**_\- Nile cruises from Cairo to Luxor and from Luxor to Cairo were indeed banned until 2011 for fear of terrorist attacks - and not without reason. Major terrorist attacks took place in Luxor in 1997, in Sinai in 2004, 2005 and 2006, and Dahab in 2006. On July 23, 2005, unknown perpetrators detonated a total of 400 kilos of explosives at three locations in the seaside resort of Sharm El-Sheikh on the Sinai Peninsula, which is heavily frequented by foreign tourists. 64 people were killed and more than 200 injured. So, what I described in this chapter, is by no means far-fetched. However, I took artistic liberty in making an exception on the ban for charter trips ;-)_**

**_\- Khufu being a clone of Skynet was an idea I had early on, even when I was still writing chapter 21. I also had always planned that his stay in ancient Egypt had become a catharsis for him, a kind of redemption - hence the title of the chapter. We will learn more about him and his life in the next chapter because there is still much to tell._**

**_\- And as usual, reviews, opinions, and statements are always welcome :-)_**


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